


Relative Being The Operative Word (Here)

by scapegoat



Category: Inhumans, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Runaways (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), Young Avengers
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Ableism, Abuse, Adoption, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Androids, Artificial Intelligence, Awkward Conversations, Big Mutant Family, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon Jewish Character, Companionable Snark, Complicated Relationships, Disabled Character, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Roller Coaster, Gender non-conformity, Inhumans (Marvel), Insecurity, Janet Van Dyne Does What She Wants, Janet Van Dyne Is Better Than You, Jewish Holidays, Learning Disabilities, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Magic-Users, Magneto's Big Not So Happy Family, Mental Health Issues, Mistaken Identity, Misusing Abilities, Mutant Disaster Billy Kaplan, Mutant Disaster Tommy Shepherd, Mutant Growth Hormone, Mutant Segregation, Mutants, Over Usage Of The Google App, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Polyamory, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Puppy Piles, Raven Does What She Wants, Religious Discussion, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Identity, Sexual Orientation Discrimination, Shapeshifting, Sibling Rivalry, Speciesism, Telepathy & Telekinesis, Terrible Matchmaking Attempts, Trauma, Trust Issues, Twin Powers Activate, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, religious discrimination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:58:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scapegoat/pseuds/scapegoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Biologically speaking one cannot choose family, you are given what DNA permits – it’s a fickle bastard that way. Things like adoption, marriage, friendship exist to do what biology cannot: give you a choice in who you call family. Meanwhile, psychiatrists exist to help you distance yourself from your family, whether you share DNA or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. my life: the new cliché

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah we’ve been through this before. I own nothing and make no money. We get it.
> 
> A/N: I’m going with Magneto’s original name of Max Eisenhardt in this series.

You see or hear of stories all the time where a child in the system or fresh out of it jumps through hoops trying to connect with the parent(s) that abandoned them, seeking answers and whatnot. Thomas “Shepherd” is no exception. He spent fourteen years in the system, jumping from potential foster family to potential foster family but no one seemed keen on keeping him. Why adoption agencies let people “rent” children was beyond him. ~~Was it even legal?~~ People weren’t like boats or cars or _clothes_ or something else you could try out and return if it doesn’t suit your tastes. Between orphanages, he also spent hefty amounts of time in various juvenile detention centers.  
  
Most people blamed his behavior on his lack of parents; Tommy blamed it on his lack of giving a shit. He dreamed of meeting his parents, what orphan doesn’t, but he never acted out because he didn’t have them. Or at least, he doesn’t think he acts out because his parents left him. Can’t blame people you don’t know for something you have no control over.  
  
He thought about his parents – tried to picture their personalities and how little or much of them he got, same with looks. Inherited looks can be tricky because the cardinal rule is when two hot people reproduce the universe deems it unfair, gets pissed, then gives them a subpar looking child as comeuppance. He’s seen it happen before and if there’s one thing the universe loves dishing out, it’s payback.  
  
In any event, despite dreaming about it, he never thought he’d meet his parents - or, in his case, meet _him_. His father, who solely goes by “Vision” for reasons he wasn’t going to ask. Their meeting was Tommy literally bumping into him after school one day. The man gives him a creepy thousand yard stare before asking about some “Wanda” person. Then Vision continues staring at him. He ends up missing curfew that night, but it is worth it because Vision adopts him when he takes him back to the orphanage. And yes, apparently a father has to adopt his child through the system like every other schmuck. Apparently, when a father does not know a child— _his child—_ exists, therefore not claiming them, after a certain time he forfeits the rights to said child.  
  
Due to Vision’s being one paranoid fucker (Tommy is sure isn’t even human), there’s a DNA test proving Maury-style that he is the father.  
  
The only reason Vision even got to know, then subsequently adopt, him was because he said he looks just like this Wanda person who Tommy has to hazard a guess and say is the woman who gave birth to him. Considering the old man didn’t know of his existence, this Wanda lady is the only one to blame in terms of abandonment.  
  
Vision doesn’t know where Wanda is and has been looking for her himself for – strangely enough – the past fourteen and a half years.  
  
During the five months they were father and son, the two of them traveled across the globe searching for a Wanda Maximoff but came up short. They did, however, get some much-needed bonding in _and_ scored some pretty sweet souvenirs along the way.  
  
It is September, which means Tommy is fifteen ~~(in give or take two weeks)~~ and set to start high school. How he graduated middle school is anyone’s guess. It might be one of the great mysteries of life. New York becomes their semi-permanent residence because Vision claims to be “born” here (again, not one-hundred percent sure the guy is human, but he has human DNA so...) but hasn’t visited since birth.  
  
When they visited Germany, Vision said it was where he and Wanda met. He didn’t fully divulge the details of their encounter, and Tommy didn’t ask. As far as Tommy is concerned there is no skin off his ass if Wanda didn’t want him. His father did— _does_ —and that’s more than enough for him.  
  
Vision doesn’t have any old photos of Wanda on his person (which was a _huge_ relief because that would be creepy as fuck) but Google finds a picture of her; Google finds various pictures of her. Vision’s memory was spot on; making Tommy’s hunch correct. Tommy looked— _looks_ —just like her: except she has long brown hair where his is naturally white. Most importantly, in a purely aesthetic way, Wanda is smoking hot.  
  
Thank fuck for genetics.  
  
Even if it doesn’t explain his hair color.  
  
That isn’t to say Vision isn’t hot himself, again – purely aesthetic, but his hot is simmering compared to hers. Evidently, the universe okays this sort of match-up and doesn’t vindictively shit all over your offspring. He’s living proof of that.  
  
“You sure you don’t wanna continue this search for your first love?” He beams at Vision who shakes his head with a small, sad smile; a smile Tommy hates seeing on the old man’s face.  
  
“It is often said you find what or who you are looking for when you are not searching for them.” Tommy nods because his dad is deep like that. A trait he did not inherit from the guy. ~~He’s not sure if he’s thankful for that yet.~~ “I believe there must have been a reason why she left, and our presence might cause her unnecessary suffering.”  
  
“Her presence might cause _us_ unnecessary suffering too, you know?” Tommy says with a shrug, “what’s causing me suffering now is this.” With a sigh, he holds up the uniform. “I’m all for the fancy, overprice school. However, I’m not down with this at all.”  
  
“While I agree the uniform is...” Vision slowly and expressionlessly looks the offending articles of clothing up and down, “atrocious, we chose the school based on academics and location.” He smirks slightly, “besides the uniforms looked better on the website.”  
  
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
They managed to get the uniform before paying tuition, and had it not been for the disgusting amount of honesty Vision possesses (another trait Tommy didn’t inherit. One he _is_ thankful for not getting), they probably wouldn’t have paid tuition at all. There was also the matter of the equipment down payment.  
  
If Vision can afford to shell out a little under $10,000 for a school year, living in the Upper West Side of Manhattan is nothing. Which, according to Manhattanites, is the “richer” of the two between the Upper West Side and Upper East Side. Vision claims his “grandparents” left him a sizable inheritance, but he hasn’t said much about who these alleged people truly are, nor has he said anything about his parents. But, who is Tommy to judge?  
  
His new school, _St. Margaret’s_ , is every bit as fancy as the brochure and website entail. The school year doesn’t begin for another two days, so either these uniform wearing people are getting an early jump on learning or even the teachers wear these hideous uniforms.  
  
This school’s assistant headmaster/principal/all around overseer is Margaret Carter – who the school ironically is _not named after_ \- an older woman who is severely bullshit intolerant (Tommy found that part out the hard way during their first encounter). “Thomas, Vision.” She nods her greeting. “What can I do for you two this morning?”  
  
Vision smoothly takes his seat while Tommy follows suit with far less grace. He hasn’t been with the man long enough to mimic how smoothly he moves. It’s almost as if he glides or something. “We are here to pay tuition, Mrs. Carter.” The former replies folding his hands over his lap.  
  
Margaret blinks at him and before now Tommy didn’t think the woman was capable of expressing surprise. “Pay? Thomas’ tuition has already been paid.”  
  
Tommy and Vision exchange glances, “by whom... if you do not mind our asking?” Of all the traits to inherit, Tommy’s grateful he seemingly got the whole proper(ish) grammar part from his dad.  
  
Margaret sifts through the folders on her desk opening one saying: “The person responsible for paying Thomas' full four-year tuition was Max Eisenhardt.” Tommy and Vision continue to stare at one another with similarly confused expressions on their faces. Who the hell was Max Eisenhardt and why was he going around tossing 40Gs their way? Not that Tommy isn’t grateful for the early ~~Christmas—~~ _Hanukkah_ present. On their trip to Germany, Vision confessed to practicing Judaism way before he was born.  
  
He may be Jewish genetically but Tommy isn’t sure about converting in a religious aspect since his faith is pretty subpar and religious talks make him squeamish. Religiously speaking, he doesn’t even celebrate Christmas.  
  
Margaret frowns closing the folder. “Mr. Eisenhardt was adamant about paying, that isn’t a problem... is it?” When is free money _ever_ a problem? “He said he knows you. Normally, that is where I do background checks because anyone can say anything, but I did not deal with Mr. Eisenhardt’s payment personally. When asked one of my staff members said he replied with a detailed explanation regarding the nature of your relationship.” Vision glances at Tommy briefly and the teen shrugs in reply. “I apologize if this inconvenienced you in any way.”  
  
Vision frowns shaking his head. “Not an inconvenience, per se, more like confusion. I received a phone call yesterday morning about Tommy’s tuition.”  
  
“Ah, well, the folders say Mr. Eisenhardt came in yesterday afternoon. I’m not sure why no one contacted you.” The assistant headmaster sighs. “I suppose they thought Mr. Eisenhardt would—”  
  
“There’s school on Sunday?”  
  
Margaret chuckles a bit. A truly terrifying sound. “No Thomas, there is no school on Sundays. We do have school every other Saturday.” A fact Tommy both knew and hated. “We’re only open now to prevent confusion when classes actually start. Evidently, it did not work.”  
  
“Oh...” Vision stands, “well if there are no other issues we must be going. I apologize for wasting your time, Mrs. Carter.” Tommy stands as well warily eyeing his father.  
  
“There’s no trouble at all.” Vision nods before leaving with Tommy trailing behind.  
  
“You don’t owe this Eisenhardt fella money, do you?” Tommy asks once they start walking down the hall. “I guess not because he wouldn’t be _paying_ if he was owed money. Does he owe you money?”  
  
“I have never heard of anyone by that name, let alone allowed them to borrow money from me... especially that much money.”  
  
“Ooh! Google him.”  
  
“That is your solution to everything.” Tommy shrugs in reply, nevertheless Vision takes out his cellphone pressing the mic button on his Google app. “Max Eisenhardt...” He says into the phone. The screen lights up going all white before pictures of a pretty grumpy looking, yet aesthetically appealing old man pop up. Max Eisenhardt was born in Germany. They didn’t see the guy (or even hear of him) when they were there so that couldn’t be the reason for this money drop-off. Max Eisenhardt has also recently reunited with his daughter: _Wanda Maximoff_.  
  
“Shit.” The two of them reply simultaneously.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
When Max Eisenhardt found out he had a daughter, he did everything in his power to make sure his daughter had everything she needed – not everything she _wanted_ , a common mistake most parents make. Considering he was dirt poor, and not legally married, he struggled on the _“everything”_ part. Still, Anya never had any complaints about his and Magda’s combined parenting. It’s a miracle she still does not have any complaints.  
  
He and Magda were crazily, irritatingly in love with one another... for a while. People always say love doesn’t fade, but they don’t know how terrifyingly wrong they truly are. It was just a good thing they got out before a ~~legal~~ marriage could happen. After Magda left him (taking Anya with her), the two of them only made contact through their daughter. Once Anya moved out from her mother's Max kept in touch with her more frequently.  
  
Despite having his daughter with him digitally she was not around physically. After the whole separation and traveling to America thing, there was Lorna. Lorna... born of one ~~(or a few?)~~ passionless night ~~(s?)~~ in Eastern Europe (he’s honestly not sure _where_ but that’s beside the point). He found Lorna, approximately twenty-four years ago, among the wreckage of a “mysterious” plane crash. The plane's only passengers were the three-year-old and her parents. The case was deemed “unsolvable” but Max figured it was Lorna’s powers that aided her survival; the powers she inherited from him.  
  
Ever since then (after the irritating adoption part), he was able to live with the three-year-old. Lorna immediately had her surname changed from Dane to Eisenhardt (only one letter down in the alphabet so if she were attending school it wouldn’t be too far of a jump). Then, upon hearing Lorna’s former surname, he remembers the ~~married~~ woman he impregnated named Suzanna.  
  
Suzanna’s parents (whom he met one time while their daughter was still alive), weren't pleased to admit she confided in them about him, and her husband at the time not being her daughter's father. They were even less pleased about the fact that a mutant impregnated their daughter, giving them a mutant granddaughter. In spite of Suzanna’s claim, her parents still insisted on a DNA test. Max didn't know if they were speciesists or simply pissed their daughter cheated on her husband with him. Either way, he was able to take Lorna when the DNA tests proved he is her father.  
  
For over twenty years he’s just had Lorna (with Anya digitally conversing with them).  
  
Then he finds out he has _yet another_ daughter.  
  
This other, older, daughter is fully grown and – as expected – wants nothing to do with him, also expected; not that he can blame her. Three is by no means a large number, but when it is just one more than the number of children you fathered yet do not know _exists_ , that’s pretty large.  
  
Ironically, he met Wanda several times within the span of twenty-four years. Though he found something strangely familiar about her, being related to him – being his daughter – never crossed his mind. ~~He already has two kids with an eighteen year age gap.~~  
  
As it turns out, Magda gave Wanda up for adoption because – case and point – the woman went absolutely nuts... which was the nicest way to put it. Wanda somehow got in contact with her mother (fresh out of the nut-house) who redirected Wanda’s rage toward him; as he somehow figured Magda would. It was bad enough Magda took Anya from him, but not only does she do the same for Wanda she gives her away as well.  
  
He’s only known Wanda is his daughter for less than a month, and she’s been pissed at him for just as long (maybe even longer). She is the child of Magda and himself, getting in her good graces will not be an easy task. He, Lorna, and Anya perform a background check discovering Wanda’s adoption, bouts with depression, and yearly visits to mental health centers from ages seven to nineteen. Nineteen is when she gave birth/gave her child up for adoption. A vicious cycle Max was set on stopping.  
  
The boy was removed from the system by a man solely known as _Vision._  
  
Considering Wanda is unaware of their objective asking her about this “Vision” guy would be pointless. Fortunately, the people working in the Jersey City orphanage have been working there for hundreds of years, so they keep a list of every child ever brought in. Information on the children isn’t supposed to be given out to just anyone, but Max can be very persuasive. Wanda didn’t even drop him off – the hospital did, but they didn’t need any prompting to tattle on his daughter.  
  
The orphanage named the boy Thomas and gave him the last name of the man who ran the place, which was Shepherd. With this information in mind, the three of them searched the globe for a Thomas Shepherd. Thomas spent the last few months traveling the globe taking a three week long trip to Germany (Max’s place of birth), his “father” with him the entire time. The two of them finally settled on New York after almost six months of globe-trotting. Vision found/adopted Thomas in Mississippi – quite the distance from Jersey City. The employees at the orphanage(s), who’ve been there for more than ten years, claimed Thomas was a troublemaker so they’d schlep him around to find a place he’d stick. Not that they ever found one.  
  
Thomas Shepherd is to attend St. Margaret’s Academy in Manhattan, New York in a few days. Miraculously, the school lets him skate by without paying tuition so close to the first day. What better way to get to know his grandson by making such a bold, random gesture that Thomas and Vision would have no choice but to try and find the man who paid all that money?  
  
If they hadn’t figured out who he was already they’d just want to get to understand _why_ he did what he did – then they’d know. Either way, he was going to meet his grandson, whether Wanda knew he was around or not.  
  
Wanda may not want anything to do with him now, but Wanda’s son was not her. As neither Anya nor Lorna have children of their own (yet ~~, or that anyone know of~~ ) this would be his first grandchild. It will also, surprisingly, be his only male relative – unless he had some other child set to come out of the woodwork.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
“You want to _meet_ Max?!” Tommy screeches. “Do you not know a trap when you see it?”  
  
“I am aware of Eisenhardt’s intentions and the reasoning behind them.”  
  
“No, nuh-uh, not gonna happen. If he knows it’s only a matter of time before he tells Wanda.” Vision tilts his head to the right. “What? She forfeited the right to be called anything maternal years ago.” Tommy sighs, “did you ever met him? Wanda’s father?” Vision pauses then shakes his head.  
  
“Assuming we met in the past, now a likely scenario. I would not have realized who he is; he and Wanda have different surnames.” Tommy nods knowingly. “However, as likely as it could be, I have no memory of him, so I am certain we never met before.” It’s times like this that make Tommy wonder why Vision sometimes spoke all proper and robotic like, always going on about memories and data and stuff. No matter. It was one of Vision’s adorable little quirks.  
  
“How _certain_ would you say you are?”  
  
“About eighty percent?” Vision frowns. “Maybe seventy-five. In any event, I take it you do not have an interest in meeting him then?”  
  
“Hell no, dad, why would I? Because he’s my apparent maternal grandfather? No, thank you. I’m not all that interested in meeting anyone on _that_ side of my ‘family.’ Let’s just send him one of those customary ‘thank you’ notes and move on with our lives.”  
  
“And if he demands restitution?”  
  
“Resti—you mean if he wants the money back?” Vision nods. “Then we pay him. Not much else we can do. Sure, it’ll take a while but—”  
  
“It would be easier to see him than to pay him back.”  
  
Fuck, that was true. Even if Vision was okay with paying $10,000 for the year _while paying for the apartment they live in_ , that probably did not equate to $40,000 right now. It was less than $10,000 a year for tuition, which meant it would be four years – minimum – they’d spend paying him back. Tommy would be nineteen and already done with high school (hopefully) and _still_ be paying back the man they’re trying hard to ignore. Dealing with him was _clearly_ both the lesser of two evils and, by far, the less expensive option. Damn _Gossip Girl_ for making him— _them_ —want the whole private school feel! Binge watching high school series and movies on Netflix... why did he come up with that idea? Damn unrealistic preparation! “What if he isn’t satisfied seeing me just once and demands the money back all the same? What if he sees me once then wants to keep seeing me? Would we still have to pay him? Would he drop it? Every question points to whatever we do, we’re screwed. Like, mafia style screwed.”  
  
“Not quite, he merely believes he is forcing our hand. This grand gesture was just to gain our attention.”  
  
“Yeah, and he got it. He knows he got it. It’s kinda hard to ignore that big of a grand gesture.”  
  
“True, and he thinks we’ll be interested in meeting him.”  
  
“You are.”  
  
“Yes, _I_ am.” Tommy eyes him dubiously. “But you are not.” Vision shakes his head. “That’s not important. What I’m suggesting is we do nothing at all.”  
  
“Now you lost me.”  
  
“All I’m saying is we need him to _think_ we would not ‘look a gift horse in the mouth’ and not bother questioning his generosity. Then, as you put it, we’ll move on with our lives.”  
  
“Ooh!” Tommy grins, “how dishonest of you.”  
  
“You are a wonderfully terrible influence.” Tommy’s grin broadens. “However, if that only serves to piss him off further _then_ we are screwed... mafia style.”  
  
Tommy’s grin slips off his face then he gulps. “Got it.” He sighs, “out of curiosity, how much is in your bank account? Like what’s your net worth and all that?”  
  
“I have about $85,000 saved up – for both high school and college if you should choose to go.” Cool, he gets a choice in the matter? Best. Dad. Ever! “If we need to pay him back I’m prepared to do so.”  
  
“Right, let’s keep that in mind. In the far back of our minds.”  
  
“There is also the matter of my inheritance, which is worth about three million.”  
  
“D-Dollars!?” Vision nods. Well, _that_ explains the fancy apartment and school. Wait a minute, no it doesn’t! It just brings about more questions! “B-But if you have money saved up you don’t intend on using your inheritance?”  
  
“That is correct but as much as it pains me to say if we need to pay Eisenhardt off to give us peace of mind I am prepared to deal with my grandmother.” Tommy whistles. He makes a mental note to ask about his paternal grandma in the future if it elicits the response of Vision shuddering briefly. “But that is our last resort.”  
  
“Agreed. No sense in dragging more family in this...” Even though this is Vision’s family and not Wanda’s. Surprisingly, he doesn’t mind the thought of dealing with the paternal side of his family – at least not yet. “You must be terrified of your grandma then, huh?”  
  
“You have no idea. The time I spent with her was brief but scarring all the same.” Ouch. Seems like this whole “family” ordeal is not worth the drama. And yet, the thought of seeing his dad terrified has a certain appeal. Mostly due to Vision always being so composed. “Although...” He eyes Tommy, “she might be able to help us, without the money.”  
  
“Oh?” Vision nods, “guess there’s no harm in asking.” Tommy claps his hands together. “If she can help, let’s do it.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
“Ms. van Dyne...” The brunette glances up from her tablet at the security guard standing in the doorway. “A man on the line for you. He claims to be a vision?”  
  
The brunette raises a skeptical eyebrow, “a vision.... on my phone?” The guard nods. Frowning slightly, she stares at the man who squirms a bit. “Wait... did the man say _he is a vision_ , or _his name is vision_?”  
  
“Um... I believe the former?”  
  
She rolls her eyes extending one of her hands, “give me the phone.” Nodding, the man walks over to her placing the cordless phone in her hand. Contemplating the life choices regarding having an old-fashioned office phone as a good idea, she places the tablet on the couch then presses the phone to her ear. “Hello?”  
  
There’s a bit of static before someone clears their throat. _“H-Hello Janet.”_  
  
The brunette’s eyes widen considerably, “hold on.” She looks up at the guard smiling sweetly. “You can go now. Thanks.” Nodding furiously, the man retreats. Sighing, she puts the phone to her ear again. “Motherfucker, nice to hear from you, V!”  
  
_“And you as well, Jan. I must apologize for not keeping contact with you. Given the nature of your relationship with Henry I figured you’d want as little to do with him as possible.”_ Janet snorts, that wasn’t even the half of it. _“I am aware that this is out of the blue, and you are free to decline. I would not be surprised if you did, but—”_ A pause, _“I_ —we— _require your assistance.”_  
  
Janet sits up, “ _we_? Who is we?”  
  
_“We is myself and my son Thomas.”_  
  
“S-Son?” Janet squeals. Her baby has a baby!  
  
The brunette hears shuffling in the background before: _“Yup, son. That’s what I am. I’m guessing that makes you my great-grandma?”_ Janet pulls the phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief before slowly pressing it back. _“—ame’s Tommy. Nice to, uh,_ hear _you.”_  
  
“Likewise. Can Vision hear me?”  
  
_“Yeah... hold on, I’ll put it on speaker.”_  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
The two of them are muttering to one another, and Janet taps the edge of her tablet with a staccato rhythm. Her rhythm doesn’t falter once during the solid minute of murmuring between the two and just before Janet snaps at them _“Manhattan”_ is what Vision blurts out. Janet’s head snaps up toward the window, eyes narrowing at the Empire State Building. She hears more murmuring before everything goes silent for a few seconds then someone (probably Vision) lets out a weary sigh. _“I’m assuming your silence indicates your interest in meeting?”_  
  
The brunette lets out a disapproving groan of Marge Simpson quality. “You’re damn right I have an interest in meeting. What do you need help with anyway? You know what, never mind. It’s probably something you can’t or shouldn’t discuss over the phone. And I’m not even gonna ask how long you’ve been here. We’re going to meet on neutral ground. I have a hotel room in the Langham Place I intend on putting to good use – we’ll meet there, fifteen minutes, Vision. I will time you.”  
  
_“Of course, we’ll be there.”_  
  
“Good. Looking forward to seeing you there.” Then she hangs up. She glances at the door then puts the phone down on the couch, the opposite side of where she put the tablet. The last time she heard from Vision, she and Henry were still on speaking terms, hard to believe that was nearly two decades ago. It’s 2016 now and though Janet doesn’t look a day over thirty having a grandson in his thirties doesn’t seem believable.  
  
Oh well, she has a great-grandson now. She stands to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt. Time to meet the fam.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Like many things in life being wealthy has its pros and cons. _Pro_ : being able to buy whatever you want (depending on the amount of wealth you possess). _Con_ : (also depending on your wealth) the so-called “status” of you – or in most instances – your family. For Janet van Dyne: genius, scientist, fashion designer, philanthropist, socialite, and entrepreneur (among other things), as well as the daughter of Vernon van Dyne. Her father being a world renowned scientist was a pretty f-ing big con.  
  
Usually, the scientist types solely recognized her as Vernon’s only offspring. An apparent big deal. A bigger deal than any and everything she's ever done in life! _Rude_! Janet van Dyne accomplished a lot of shit in her life too! She doesn’t play second fiddle to anyone, not even her father.  
  
In any event... here she is, in her hotel room, sitting across from her grandson and great-grandson. “So...” Janet begins, eyeing the two of them, “how did this happen?” Vision tilts his head and Janet sighs. “The son? Not in the actual sense either. I know the mechanics.”  
  
“Oh! A few months ago I met Thomas near a Mississippi orphanage.” The white-haired teen nods in agreement. “DNA has proven he is my son.” Janet blinks at him. “We found out earlier today his maternal grandfather paid for his tuition at St. Margaret’s yesterday afternoon. Tuition for all four years and the two of us have not discussed whether or not he would continue to attend the school when the first year was over.”  
  
“Guess you don’t have to discuss it anymore. Who's the baby granddaddy?” Janet asks waggling her eyebrows.  
  
“Mrs. Carter says his name is Max Eisenhardt.”  
  
“The mutant rights activist?” Vision and Tommy share a look. “What? He’s a famous guy and all that. I may not be a mutant but I keep up with that stuff. Uh, I _know of him_ , but I don’t _know him_ or anything.” She tilts her head. “You knocked up _his_ daughter? Which one?”  
  
“Wanda Maximoff.”  
  
“I wasn’t aware she was his daughter.” The brunette hums. Not that she knows who Wanda Maximoff _is_. Janet only knows of Anya Eisenhardt and Lorna Eisenhardt. “Eisenhardt came to you trying to connect with his grandson? What do you need me to do? Pay him off. That’ll be easy. Extort him? Also easy. Get him to back off? Well, that goes hand in hand with extortion.”  
  
“All we need is your advice.”  
  
“ _That’s_ what we came here for!?” Tommy asks then groans. “I was all for a shakedown.” Janet chuckles. “Ms. van Dyne, great-grams if I may, if you know of this guy do you know what he’ll do if we ignore his charity?”  
  
The brunette grimaces, “like I said I don’t know him personally, but if someone ignored _my_ charity I’d be pretty miffed. Just thank him then, I don’t know, move on with your lives. If that doesn’t work we always have extortion; trust me, it’ll be a breeze. My minions are always so eager to please. Oh, what do you know, that rhymed.”  
  
“Minions?” Tommy grins at Vision, “I like her.”  
  
“Yes, I had a feeling you would. So your advice is to thank him? Then what? He did this for Tommy, to get to know him.” Janet glances at Tommy. “Tommy said he has no interest in meeting because it might lead to a meeting with his mother, which is also unwanted.”  
  
“I don’t blame you. Doesn’t really seem worth it. Unfortunately, I cannot fathom how you feel. My mother died when I was four, and I’d do almost anything for one chance to talk to or even see her.” She shrugs, “but I my dad was with me the whole time. Had _he_ abandoned me we’d be having a different conversation.”  
  
“Dad didn’t know about me, so he didn’t wittingly abandon me. Wanda willingly left me, I get that she might have done it because she couldn’t care for me, but that doesn’t mean I have to up and forgive her. It’s selfish, I know, but I’m not ready for her to be my mom... and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be ready.”  
  
Vision puts an arm around Tommy drawing him near. “It’s okay for you to be a little selfish, I imagine you want to get closer to your dad first.” Janet nods to herself, “and it’s really her loss because you seem like a cool kid.” Tommy grins at her. “Hey! The three of us should have brunch or something together weekly since we’re all in New York!”  
  
“I would like that.”  
  
Tommy grins, “sure. Why not? If you’re alright with my old man, you’re alright with me. Not to mention you’re Janet van Dyne: international model, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and fashion designer.” He forgot a few things, but Janet wasn’t about to point that out. “How cool is it I’m related to an actual celebrity?! _Wait! You’re like forty-something..._ ” He glances at Vision, “and he’s—”  
  
Vision clamps a hand over his mouth, “let us focus on more pressing matters shall we?”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Who would have thought a few months after meeting his father he’d meet his great-grandma. Find out he even has a great-grandma. A great-grandma! Some people don’t have a grandparent let alone a great-grandparent.  
  
Unfortunately, gushing over his familial relationship with Janet van Dyne has to take a backseat to “urgent matters.”  
  
Tommy grimaces at his reflection in the full-length mirror. No amount of marathoning or binge watching in the world would be enough to prepare him for high school, no amount of anything in the world can prepare him for this fucking uniform. As hot as he is, even he can’t pull off this atrocity. And if _he_ can’t, he’s pretty sure no one can. “It is not as bad as you make it seem.” Vision says putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, “it is very patriotic.”  
  
“I’ve seen American Flags less patriotic than this uniform. The New England Patriots are not as patriotic as this uniform.” Vision hums in agreement. The pants are striped blue and white (not plaid like most upper-crust uniforms), there’s a hideous bright red sweater vest, a plain blue button-down shirt, and a striped red and white tie he won’t wear – ever. The only source of individuality on his person are his socks (Yoda since he found a Star Wars three pack at some store he forgot the name of). Case in point, socks aside, he looks like a Neo Maxi Zoom Dweebie if he ever saw one.  
  
Surprisingly, with all the rules in place, the school has no rules regarding piercings. While some schools don’t allow male students with piercings, others don’t allow any piercings of any kind.  
  
Tommy doesn’t have any piercings, yet. Moreover, if his dad is letting him decide whether he wants to go to college or not, can’t rule out the possibility of a piercing or two. Perhaps even a tattoo (or several) is also possible in the future.  
  
“You have the alternate uniforms.” Tommy shudders. He’s pretty sure an American Flag is on one of his alternate uniform somewhere. They need to find whoever designed these _things_ and beat them over the head, repeatedly, with several fashion magazines or a DVD box set of Project Runway; _various_ DVD box sets.  
  
“I think you look adorable.” Janet replies texting away on her phone.  
  
“Grams, you’re not even looking.”  
  
“We talked about that, Thomas.” The white-haired teen sighs. He received a painstakingly thorough run-down as to why he should _never_ refer to Janet as “great-grandma” or any variant. Admittedly, he forgot the majority of the reasons, but he remembers one of them being Janet not looking old enough to be a great-grandma. Given Janet’s youthful appearance she barely looks old enough to be a _parent_. That is not an exaggeration either. She got carded at the grocery store! Tommy hopes their shared genetics lets him look half his age in his forties/fifties as well.  
  
~~_That_~~ ~~and the whole Vision not being human debate go hand-in-hand. Unless Janet gave birth at like~~ ~~ _twelve_~~ ~~or something, her familial relationship with Vision is a mathematical impossibility.~~  
  
Neither one discusses Janet’s “son” (Vision’s “father”), but they – scathingly one might add – mention a bug-obsessed dude who may or may not be Janet’s ex-husband Harry or Henley or another H name. ~~Assuming H is the correct letter.~~ Janet _finally_ looks up then gasps loudly. “ _Oh_! Yeah, you’re right. So right. I wasn’t looking, I wasn’t looking at all.” She shakes her head sadly. “Oh my, I...I—” She takes a deep breath, “yeah, no. Under no circumstance is a relative of mine is wearing _that_.”  
  
“It’s the St. Margaret’s uniform.” Vision says with a shrug that earns him a glare.  
  
“I’m a fashion designer, Vision, and a generous one at that. You don’t think I can design the most kick-ass, smart, _breathable_ , classiest looking uniform ever? Like in the history of ever?”  
  
“I didn’t say—”  
  
“You’re damn right you didn’t say, V.” The brunette slumps back in the chair furiously typing away on her phone mumbling under her breath.  
  
Tommy frowns at Vision. “Why didn’t you try contacting her _before_ we got this thing? I can already _be_ in my smart, classy, kick-ass, breathable uniform.”  
  
“As I recall, we only contacted her because of your grandfather.”  
  
Tommy sucks in a breath, “right.” They glance at Janet take a sketchpad out of nowhere and start drawing on it. “She works fast.” Vision nods in agreement. “Did she always have that notebook with her?”  
  
Vision tilts his head to the left, “I do not know.”  
  
Janet’s sketching with one hand and has her phone against her ear. “Let me call you back.” She stops sketching, hangs up then dials someone else. “Dad? Hey! Boy, do I have news for you...”  
  
Vision’s phone starts vibrating so he takes it out of his pocket and stares at it for a good thirty seconds before re-pocking it. Twenty minutes before they’re supposed to leave.  
  
When Janet hangs up she puts the pad on her lap and starts sketching again. The brunette prefers physical drawings with her designs compared to using a tablet or some other impersonal electronic item. Call her old school, but feeling the strokes of the pencil, smelling the paper, watching everything unfold before her very eyes? There is no better feeling.  
  
“You can’t go wrong with flowers.” Tommy and Vision exchange glances. “Nah.” Janet shakes her head tearing the page from her notebook, crumpling it up, and tossing it on the floor next to the other crumpled sheets of paper. Tommy blinks because two minutes ago the floor didn’t have pieces of crumpled paper on it. “That won’t work.” She mumbles, chewing on her pen. “I want something flashy.”  
  
Tommy glances at Vision as his phone starts vibrating again.  
  
“What are your school colors?”  
  
Tommy turns to Janet. “Red, white, and blue.”  
  
Janet stops sketching to look at him, “are you kidding?” Tommy gestures to his uniform. “Ooh. Ouch.” She grimaces. “ Now that I think about it you did make a patriotic comment.” The brunette hums. “How to make the American Flag look flashier? Is that a thing I can do? Is that a thing _anyone_ can do? I’m truly flabbergasted. I don’t suppose I could change the school colors?” Tommy shrugs. “Maybe I can change how much of the color—” Vision’s phone starts vibrating. “For the love of—answer the damn thing, V!”  
  
Vision stares blankly at her then takes his phone out of his pocket and _stares_. Tommy and Janet stare back at him. He looks up at them, back at the phone, then at them once more. “It appears I am required elsewhere.”  
  
“How would you know? You didn’t answer the phone.” Janet narrows her eyes at him.  
  
Vision looks at his phone again. “It’s...”  
  
“Private?”  
  
He looks at Tommy then nods. “Yes. I’m sorry for leaving suddenly. Will you be alright taking Tommy to school, Janet?”  
  
She sneaks a peek at Tommy who gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure. You can count on me, chief.”  
  
Vision nods. “Thank you. I will see you when you get home, Tommy. And Janet, thanks so much.”  
  
“Yeah, yea, you’re welcome. Now go already.” Vision nods once more, Tommy and Janet both wave to him as he walks out the apartment.  
  
Janet continues to stare at the closed door for approximately five seconds before blurting out: “What the hell was that all about?”  
  
Tommy shrugs. “He’s been doing that a lot lately.”  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
He picks up the second alternate uniform, holding it against his body. No American Flag on this one but somehow this uniform is even more horrendous than the original. Not that the original looks better by comparison. Either way, he puts the uniform down and takes a step away from it for good measure. “Acting cagey, checking his phone every two seconds, making secret phone calls, not answering secret phone calls, pulling disappearing acts, sending shifty glances all around. Things like that. Maybe the reason he doesn’t wanna find my birth mom is because he’s seeing someone else?”  
  
“Plausible, but I doubt it.” Janet taps her pen against her notebook. “Vision waxed poetic about your mom. Only woman he ever loved. Blah, blah, blah. Disappearing. Blah, blah, blah. Sadness. Blah, blah—It was super irritating. Going on and on and on _and on_.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Oh yeah. Thank goodness you didn’t inherit his flair for the dramatic.” Janet shakes her head. “Definitely got it from...” She sighs, “whatever. I need to know where he’s going. Just what the hell is so important he’d miss your high school sendoff?”  
  
“High school really isn’t that big a deal.” She glares at him. “Or it is? I wouldn’t know.”  
  
Janet hums, clicking her tongue. “You know what? We should follow him.”  
  
“We should?”  
  
“No one’s ever on-time for the first day. Besides...” She points her pen at the closed door, “I’m intrigued.”  
  
“So am I but dad’s entitled to a little secrecy.” Janet raises an eyebrow then points at him, “what?”  
  
“Secrecy. That’s you.”  
  
“No. I was kept secret _from_ him.”  
  
Janet rolls her eyes, “ _regardless_. I say we’re going. I’m your ride, your great-grandmother, and I’m going to draw up some paperwork making me a guardian.”  
  
“Did you talk to dad about this?”  
  
“No. I literally just thought of it.” She waves him off, “I’ll talk to him about it later. Point is, I’m already here and not that I have any experience in this field but raising a kid is hard work. I didn’t need to raise one to know that.”  
  
“You never raised a kid before?”  
  
“Hank and I split before the kid was in the picture.” _Hank._ _That’s_ what the H-guy’s name was! Tommy would’ve never guessed that. “Then when it happened, I...” She shudders. “That’s why I treat V like my baby.” She grins at him, “and my baby’s baby.” Tommy grins back. “Now let’s get going.”  
  
Tommy gasps, “wait! That means people are gonna see me in this uniform!”


	2. gaslight 'em up

You see or hear of stories all the time where a child in the system or fresh out of it jumps through hoops trying to connect with the parent(s) that abandoned them, seeking answers and whatnot. Borderline obsessive curiosity aside, William “Billy” Baraq Kaplan has no intention of fucking _everything_ in his life trying to find a bunch of people he may not share anything with, aside from DNA. Billy already has a loving, ~~somewhat~~ supportive family not bound to him by blood.  
  
Rebecca and Jeff Kaplan adopted him when he was a bright-eyed, _slightly_ less cynical two-year-old. He may not have been in the system for very long, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t impact his life. The Kaplans tried to conceive for years but found themselves unable; they tried the adoption route a few times before to no avail, even potential surrogates fell through. All in all, they were genuinely unlucky when it came to children.  
  
Four years after they adopted Billy, Rebecca gave birth to fraternal twin boys. Barring favorable, unrelated incidents following his adoption, his parents considered him their “miracle child.” Maybe it was his low self-esteem or the fact that he was born with powers, but Billy felt the polar opposite of anything _miraculous_.  
  
Which is ironic, because it’s not exactly a conversation starter and, among individuals blessed/cursed with abilities beyond those perceived as “normal,” it’s pretty rare to be able to use any powers shortly after birth. It’s even rarer to _remember_ your birth. ~~His eidetic memory doesn’t help his case.~~  
  
Among his unfinished list of known powers, he has telepathy. There’s no concrete proof, but he believes he used his telepathy to get his parents to adopt him. He might have (subconsciously or even _unconsciously_ ) used his powers for other things too. Controlling them growing up was no easy task; it still isn’t easy.  
  
Telling people (your parents or otherwise), you’re a telepath – a coveted, somewhat rare, pretty damn powerful ability – would lead to a series of uncomfortable questions. Telling people you have the very coveted, very rare, extremely fucking powerful ability to _warp reality to your will_ is the best chance of getting you committed to the nearest maximum security psychiatric ward.  
  
He isn’t human because humans aren’t _born_ with powers – that shit develops via freak accident or ~~(unethical)~~ experimentation. Doesn’t have to worry about xenophobes (assuming that’s the correct term) as his nature as an introvert deflects unwanted attention. No one would suspect him of being anything more than an angsty human teenager. ~~Two outta three normally ain't bad.~~  
  
Why bother going through the trouble of proving you aren’t human when there’s no proof against it? Why bother picking a fight when it’ll only expose what you are? Or what you aren’t?  
  
Anthropological normativity places humans on the highest spot on the totem pole. In the eyes of xenophobic, speciesist humans no other species exists and if they do they’re nowhere near as important.  
  
Although it’ll be interesting finding out what he is, delving coincides with the “birth family” fiasco he’s actively avoiding. He can’t say he’s _completely_ avoiding the birth family shtick, due to the one specific aspect he’s clinging to, hoping to find out more about, and it has nothing to do with his biological parents.

Not that it would matter, human or whatever he is nothing would save him from discrimination. Same-sex marriages may be legal in a good chunk of the world, but that’s not enough to magically erase every homophobic, biphobic, or heteronormative person (or _non-person_ ) on Earth. When he tried to tell his parents about his expulsion they mistook it for him coming out. Needless to say, they were fine with one thing and not okay with the other (well, they were more than just _fine_ with his sexuality).  
  
Seeing his easy-going parents so angry was terrifying. No parent wants to hear of their child’s expulsion, particularly parents who have no idea their child was a victim of bullying. Nevertheless, his expulsion was bound to happen sooner or later. The all-boys private school he attended was criminally homophobic. Case in point? Jonathan Kesler: middle school bully and all around dumbass. Though he didn’t discriminate when it came to bullying, Billy was his favorite target. In some twisted, horror film-esque way Billy figured he owed the guy thanks for the constant harassment. Had Kesler not pushed his buttons he would not have unlocked his kickass electrokinetic abilities. Quite the case of irony considering his middle name means _flash of lightning_ in Hebrew. Though almost killing the guy because he couldn’t control his temper might’ve been a bit much. In his defense..., he couldn’t control his powers either.  
  
Hasn’t been able to use electrokinesis after that. Assuming it is one of those “emotionally triggered” abilities he’s going to have a serious problem on his hands – or in his mind.  
  
“William.” He turns slightly to the psychiatrist. “Staring out the window isn’t going to make time go by faster.”  
  
Sighing, the black-haired teen flops back in his seat. It’s comfier than the last few ugly couches he sat on, and the whole place gives off the feel of a living room rather than a psychiatrist's office. “My mother is a psychiatrist so you can take the kid gloves off.”  
  
“Very well.” Billy doesn’t like that tone but doesn’t comment. “Did you enjoy electrocuting Mr. Kesler?”  
  
Billy blinks at that. No hesitation in ripping the kid gloves off. He didn’t _deliberately_ electrocute him; wasn’t aware he could manipulate/generate electricity from his body until he told Kesler to “back the hell off.” However, that wasn’t the question. Saying he felt anything akin to remorse makes him a liar. Would _anyone_ feel empathetic injuring the asshole who relentlessly tortured you for six and a half months shouting every anti-Semitic and homophobic slur the Internet can provide? ~~(Including several Billy honestly had to look up?)~~ Contrarily, saying he took pleasure in watching Kesler writhe and twitch uncontrollably makes him both a sadist and a sociopath. Or would he be a psychopath? He always gets those two mixed up.  
  
He’s already at the psychiatrist, why bother lying? “Enjoy is a strong word.” The psychiatrist nods, no doubt jotting that down in the notepad. If Billy’s lucky, his potential sociopathic/psychopathic tendencies might tack on just one extra session instead of the usual two or three.  
  
Narrowing his eyes, he takes in his psychiatrist’s appearance. Dude’s bald for starters, and in a wheelchair – surely he’d know how torment and discrimination feel. His former psychiatrists were “regular” (i.e. able-bodied, heterosexual, mentally sound) humans, who proudly stated they had no personal experience(s) with the shit he’s undergone/undergoing. Having a psychiatrist relating to him is incredible. No longer would he have to listen to these so-called “experts” talk out of their asses drumming up their half-ass conclusions regarding his “problem areas.” No longer would he get a lecture on fighting back his tormentor. ~~Well, he can only hope with the fighting back part.~~  
  
Arguably, the main reason higher-ups sent him _Professor Xavier’s_ way had nothing to do with ableism or homophobia – it had everything to do with telepathy. During his last session, he sped up time to appease boredom. A blatant misuse of powers but, if nothing else, his sessions were great places for practice. Memory wipes are often pointless as if they don’t _see_ him do anything they’ll just make shit up – shit far worse than using telepathy. He’s been gaslit so many damn times he can’t even think of a proper analogy for it. The people who schedule him for sessions referred him to someone “irregular” who could not only sense but stop him if need be. Word around the rumor mill (i.e. waiting room) is the psychiatrist— _his psychiatrist—_ Professor Charles Francis Xavier is one of the top telepaths on the fucking planet. The _planet_ is a pretty big place! No one specified how “top” the _top_ was: it could be top five, top fifty, top one hundred; the top was the top regardless of the exact number. All in all, his psychiatrist can do more than _stop him_ should the need arise.  
  
Getting a telepathic psychiatrist is undoubtedly the suckiest part about this entire ordeal. Even suckier than telling his parents he has powers. He tried avoiding it, contemplated using his telepathy/“reality warping” to erase all knowledge involving his expulsion then create an elaborate cover story for his online middle school diploma. It’s as immoral as it would be effective. Unfortunately, in true stereotypical sociopathic/psychopathic(?) fashion, it felt _wrong_ lying to his parents. Ironic, since he’s read his parents minds and knows when they’ve lied to his face.  
  
Needless to say, they took that news simultaneously better than his expulsion and worse than his sexuality. Then he got grounded for two weeks for lying to them for thirteen years. Had he known get grounded was a possibility he might have stuck with his original plan. His parents style of “grounding” is reminiscent of in-school suspension it keeps him in a room, _not his room_ , all day except for sleeping. Occasionally, he’s forced to interact with family members. Overall, a worse punishment than therapy.  
  
Xavier is still writing in his little notepad. The guy seems nice enough, not bothering to pressure him for _answers_ or _feelings_ like his other psychiatrists (not his mom) various schools sent him. Come to think of it, one school sent him to his mother for a session – words alone are incapable of summarizing the weirdness of that day. If the session didn’t end early, since his mother was too into “mother mode” instead of “psychiatrist mode” there might have been the need to send Billy to his dad – the cardiologist.  
  
“Obligatory subject change.” The psychiatrist says suddenly, tossing his notepad onto the couch beside him in a rather unprofessional manner. His smile is a bit unsettling too. Unlike the professor-psychiatrist before him, Billy lacks experience essential for mentally one-upping fellow telepaths. ~~A mental throwdown does sound emphatically kick-ass.~~ “Would you feel comfortable if we were to converse telepathically?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, I would not, I would be immensely uncomfortable with that.” Xavier laughs. “How did you get into this line of work?” Billy asks then glances at the clock behind Xavier. Fifty-two minutes left; damn hour long session. How the hell could all that take just eight minutes!? Did he unconsciously slow time down ~~(again)~~?! “I know you’re the psychiatrist suppose to ask me all the questions and everything—”  
  
“Frankly—” The psychiatrist interrupts, “I don’t mind answering.” Billy regards him suspiciously then relaxes slightly in his chair. Putting his guard down completely wouldn’t be smart, as far as Billy knows one cannot turn telepathy off making his mind an all-you-can-eat buffet of thoughts. _He_ knows what he’s thinking, knows the psychiatrist-professor knows what he’s thinking, what good would a constant reminder be? However, it’s a two-way street, Billy’s capable of reading his psychiatrist’s mind too. “Truthfully, it happened by accident. First day of school I wandered into the wrong classroom and was instantly enamored.” He sighs contently. “The way the professor spoke so passionately about psychiatry must have struck a chord with me.”  
  
“Helped that you were a telepath, huh?”  
  
The psychiatrist laughs. “I’m afraid it was all thanks to hard work.”  
  
Billy glances around the room. _Hard work!? Hard work_ got the man five Ph.D.’s before thirty? When he was Billy’s age he was well on his way graduating _college number one_ , Billy hasn’t even made it to _high school_ yet! Hell, his middle school graduation was an e-mail! If he were a baseline individual this would be improbable; no, even a creature of a different species would have issues achieving all of this. Hypothesizing Xavier’s species isn’t difficult given the various mutant-related paraphernalia adorning the walls. Newspaper headlines from pivotal times in mutant history, a diploma from that mutant-only university, degrees in both mutant psychology and mutant psychiatry, pictures of himself at several mutant pride rallies. Had he not went to Genosha, where they screen students at the door, one might just think he is someone with an unhealthy, unnatural obsession with mutants overall.  
  
Telepathy is not an inherently mutant trait after all – though the majority of telepaths _are_ mutants. It’s one of those all squares are rectangles, yet not all rectangles are squares deals. Instead of a blatant mutant fetish (which is still possible) he’s just proud as hell to be born a mutant.  
  
Telepathy tops off Xavier’s already unfair advantage of naturally high intelligence. Meanwhile, Billy – also with telepathy – is of _average_ intelligence ~~(maybe even~~ ~~ _below average_~~ ~~).~~ See? Unfair.  
  
“Does your telepathy help with ‘troubled clients?’” He air-quotes, “helps understand their minds and whatnot?”  
  
“I would never use my power to ‘magically’ fix anything or anyone.” Can you imagine how much money he’d lose if he did?! He’d put himself out of business! “However...” The psychiatrist rubs the back of his neck, “I do receive plenty of requests on the subject.”  
  
Billy snorts. With all the shit humans give mutants, they’d ask one to enter their mind simply for a quick fix? Typical. “Is that ethical?”  
  
“It isn’t _un_ ethical. Telepathy is no more invasive than hypnotherapy or any ‘brain-enhancing’ drug.”  
  
Billy leans forward a bit, “I’m not sure that’s true.” He clicks his tongue, “have you ever fulfilled a telepathy request?”  
  
At Xavier’s raised eyebrow Billy grins. “I don’t need telepathy to know you’re baiting me.”  
  
“Not baiting, per se.” He shrugs leaning back. “I’m genuinely interested in understanding my inner-self or whatever.” Xavier just stares blankly at him. “I’m serious. Read me. Can’t do it myself.”  
  
The thing about experienced telepaths (read: _not_ _Billy_ ) is you don’t feel them reading your mind. You’d think someone violating the hell out of your mind would hurt, but it’s just the opposite. You know, unless hurting you _is_ the intention. Billy’s had purposely hurtful mind reading, and the kind that doesn’t hurt. Both on the same day. ~~Doesn’t take a mind reader to know which he preferred.~~  
  
Xavier leans back continuing to stare blankly at him. Billy doesn’t know if he’s reading his mind, psyching him out, or completing a new age ritual; whatever the hell he’s doing it is nothing short of terrifying. He’s wishing he could use his telepathy on himself. After a few seconds, the psychiatrist takes a deep breath. In addition to painlessness, mind reading is quick.  
  
“That bad?” Billy jokes.  
  
“‘Bad’ is not the qualifier I would use.” The teen grimaces. “Unique might be more fitting. Simply put distinctly remembering your birth is extraordinary.” Billy shrugs nonchalantly. Warping reality does that to a fella – though he’d have to wonder if he ever used that particular ability on himself. “I’d like to discuss the reoccurring dreams where you have an identical twin who murders you by ripping your heart straight from your chest then crushes it into dust?”  
  
Billy laughs awkwardly then clears his throat. “That last bit might have been because of binge watching Once Upon A Time.”  
  
The psychiatrist nods knowingly, “in other dreams you live but they – and I quote – say _‘they’ll take great pleasure in seeing you suffer...?’”_ Billy grimaces. He should probably stop watching that show if he keeps having these thoughts. He’s fairly jaded as is. On the other hand, he just loves Regina whether she’s The Evil Queen or not; but mostly when she’s The Evil Queen.  
  
“Does that even need explaining?”  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
Billy tilts his head, “what does this have to do with my expulsion?”  
  
“More than you realize.”  
  
Billy sighs, “so you want me to say out loud what you already know? I’m an identical twin who, in a classic movie scenario, was separated at birth.” He shrugs, “still not drawing a comparison.”  
  
“You subconsciously punish yourself for what happened to your twin.” Billy opens his mouth to protest, but the professor holds up a hand, “everything for the past fourteen years bottled up: all the anger, sadness, hopelessness, every feeling you’ve ever had? It overflowed and out came your powers.”  
  
So he’s an empath. This is what he gets for _caring_ so much. “So you’re saying I’m sabotaging my powers because of the feelings, particularly guilt, I have for nearly killing my twin from within our mother?”  
  
“You’ve heard people saying it’s unhealthy to keep your feelings bottled up, haven’t you?” Billy gives a one-shoulder shrug. “It is especially dangerous for individuals with powers, and I doubt passing yourself off as a baseline made things easier.”  
  
“Can’t say it made things harder.”  
  
“Do you intend on telling your parents you’re looking for your twin brother?”  
  
“I think we both know the answer to that question, even without the telepathy.” Billy leans back in his seat, “besides I’ve been preoccupied with an expulsion, frequent psychiatrist visits and other therapy sessions.” By all accounts, Billy has no right trying to find his twin. It’s because of Billy that his brother got sick and nearly died, several times and this was all during the birthing process. The separation was due to his twin going to the NICU after birth. The shit hit the fan after that and, oddly enough, Billy does not remember that part. It’s almost as though someone blocked it from his mind.  
  
Despite both the telepathy and an eidetic memory, he has no knowledge of what his brother looks like. Obviously, they’ll look the same. How else would he look? They’re identical. However, with genetics and all that, the specifics are unknown. In his dreams, his twin’s figure was nothing more than a shadow, but if he had to guess, ideally, he’d say they had black hair and brown eyes just like he does. Unfortunately, realistically speaking, he’s sure he’s way off. He doesn’t remember his birth mother’s appearance either, but perhaps that’s a good thing.  
  
“—sought out a telepath to help get the memories you think someone either erased or suppressed?”  
  
Oh, he zoned out. “Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, “didn’t work.”  
  
“Let me ask you this. Are you aware of telepathic bonds solely between twins?”  
  
“Yeah, but I never thought they were _real_.”  
  
The professor nods, “or is it you not wanting to believe they are real? I’m sure you’ve _felt_ him.”  
  
“How—”  
  
“Have you experienced subconscious urges?”  
  
“Is that an appropriate question?”  
  
The professor chuckles, “that depends...” He takes a deep breath, “let me ask you another question. Do you think it’s possible you shielded your brother from telepathy?”  
  
“No...?”  
  
“You tried contacting him, yes?” Billy shakes his head. “This is your identical twin brother, William, the one person in this world who shares both a mental and physical connection to you. Even if he’s unaware of your existence, with your bond, he should sense you.”  
  
Billy cringes, “I-I don’t want to cause him any more pain. If I did shield him, or whatever, trying to break that shield could make him brain dead or kill him or some other horrible result.”  
  
“That is a good reason to be cautious.” He nods to himself, “so you felt him yet didn’t want to make contact out of fear of hurting him?”  
  
“That’s the gist. But how do I know I’m feeling him? I mean, I _know_ , the uncharacteristic actions are not my typical neurotic behavior and could only be his – or I’m possessed, and I don’t discredit the latter.”  
  
“Here is what I suggest.” Billy sits up. “Try to track an energy signature similar to yours. Before you get excited—” He holds up a hand, “we have an exceedingly high likelihood your brother’s energy is nothing like yours.”  
  
“Making trying to find similar or the same energy useless.” Billy mutters.  
  
“Indeed. That leads to another point I just thought of. Your twin may not have powers, at all.” Billy grimaces, “then again, it’s possible his powers are either dormant or undetectable. Also possible, are his fully developed or partially developed powers you are unaware of, and therefore, cannot find.”  
  
“Do you have any _good_ news?”  
  
“The only good news I can give you is there’s a slight probability of finding the energy signature of the shield you created; if you created one.”  
  
_Slight_ wasn’t good by normal means, but he’s flying blind here so he’ll take what he can get. Billy’s a cautious guy: looks both ways before crossing the street, reads ingredients on everything before eating, checks doors twice to make sure they’re locked, things of that nature. No matter how cautious, shielding his brother _from himself_ , because he messed up once, seems a bit much. Fool me once shame on you; fool me twice – shame on me.  
  
He selfishly got the hell out of dodge the minute he was able. Barely developed and hatching escape plans; half-ass escape plans but plans all the same. Hitting the third trimester (or even before that) his powers manifested. He didn’t remember his mother, but he remembered the feeling of being unwanted. A dark, crippling feeling of hopelessness he couldn’t shake. He was surprised she didn’t just get an abortion to cut out the middle man.  
  
A huge part of him is glad she went through with the almost full-term pregnancy, even if it meant putting them up for adoption. A bigger part of him was pissed his brother was pretty much left for dead while he was placed with the healthy babies. One might call that survivor’s guilt; or an extension of it.  
  
Considering the hospital he was born in wasn’t for humans, he could only guess his mother wasn’t human either. Meaning, neither was his brother – unless it was a freaky genetic thing that made his twin human and not him. If twins can be different races, they can be different species.  
  
“Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer this conversation to be telepathic?”  
  
Billy sighs. Right, endless buffet of thoughts. “I’m not used to... doing that.”  
  
“If nothing else, it makes for a valuable learning experience.” Billy gives a half shrug. “Speaking of learning, I belatedly realized two things about you: first off - you are as magical as you are telepathic and telekinetic. Most telepaths can’t use telekinesis, let alone magic. For your body to harness these abilities equally without adding unnecessary strain is remarkable. However, since you use telepathy, telekinesis, and magic evenly your overall stamina depletes rapidly.”  
  
Hands down top three “shittiest things he’s found out.” All the fucking power in the world and next to zero PP for using it. That explains both his terrible participation grades in physical education and why he gets tired so damn fast. Coincidentally, two of the three things he found out today. In this very room. Getting his heart crushed into dust is more likely than finding his twin brother without telepathy.  
  
“If you are so worried about your powers it does not hurt to get lessons.” A pause, “for everything. Don’t fret over finding someone, I have an associate you can call.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Talking to psychiatrists, psychologists, even psychotherapists didn’t suffice in his (mandated) quest for “normalcy.” Higher-ups liked putting him in “group sessions” with other “troubled youths.” Biweekly meetings were held in the youth center a few blocks from his house. Though adopted in New York, the location of his new psychiatrist, his family lives in New Jersey (Jersey City to be precise). From Jersey City to Manhattan is a half-hour car ride; a trip to Atlantic City is two hours long, and they do that monthly.  
  
Fortunately, today is not a therapy day.  
  
His mother drops him off/picks him up from appointments to tell other psychiatrists how to do their job. Seeing her chew people out is immensely (and sadistically) thrilling. However, when she picked him up from Xavier’s she was in awe. Jaw-dropping, frozen on the spot awe. _Awed_ by Professor Charles Francis Xavier: bad-ass mutant telepath, world-renowned psychiatrist-professor-psychologist, personification of perfection, and apparent miracle worker getting Billy willingly speaking. Monosyllabic grunts were his forte with psychiatrists.  
  
As his mother drives them back to Jersey City, in silence, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t need to use his telepathy or look in her direction to know she’s scowling. Wordlessly, he takes it out and stares at the wallpaper. A picture of him and his best friend, America, with their “resting bitch faces.”  
  
He’s not sure how his dad feels, but he knows his mother disapproves of their friendship. Not even subtly either, she blatantly gave him an extensive psychiatric lecture about befriending patients deemed “troubled.” Beggars cannot be choosers; Rebecca Kaplan wanted her eldest son to interact, she never specified who to interact with or _how they should interact._ Besides, it is hella hypocritical, as he is classified as “troubled” alongside them.  
  
No parent enjoys finding out their child is irredeemably fucked up – so they enable, coddle, treat him like nothing’s wrong, unconsciously walk on eggshells, aggressively exclude him when referring to the mentally ill. How they manage doing all these things simultaneously is impressive. Unhealthy, but impressive.  
  
America Chavez appears as “troubled” as they come. With this close to the weirdness magnet called New York, Billy’s been exposed to a plethora of unusual names – both given names and nicknames. A never-ending source of patriotic puns, jokes, and phrases bestowed the brunette. The aforementioned brunette wasn’t born in America (either America), wasn’t even born on _Earth_. Whoever named her, whether it was the parents that dropped her off Superman-style or the people(?) who found her, was a sadist. America has no idea how she got her name, and not everyone has the displeasure of remembering their birth.  
  
Before their friendship took off, the two of them spent ample amounts of time in therapy sessions sitting near yet not talking to each other. He figured if they see one another outside these four walls (unlikely), they’re bound to greet one another (plausible). He never thought they’d be friends, let alone _best friends_. America is a tiny ball of Latinx, alien rage and how could Billy not enjoy the company of someone as cynical as he is?  
  
The heteronormative, heterosexist world believes they’re fucking (and frequently to boot) as men and women are incapable of forming an intimate friendship. He’s sure his mother thinks they together, under the guise of “friendship,” because she caught them in compromising positions. E.g.: America zipping up his fly, the two of them sprawled out on one another without pants, the fact that America sleeps in his bed when she spends the night, the list goes on. Unfortunately for the outsiders, they’re same-sex oriented. Something he found out _a month_ after they became friends.  
  
America (though she’ll never admit it) is touch-starved, hell, Billy is too. Her species is unknown, as his Billy’s but even if he knew he can’t help feeling out of place with his family. One reason he’s reluctant to completely give up on finding his birth family. Finding someone who gets that is rare. His family loves him, that much is certain, and they take his “uniqueness” in stride. However, as understanding as they are, they’ll never know how he feels. They’re human, and no amount of explanations give them a full grasp of his powers or the shit he’s putting himself in. Billy isn’t human nor can he keep pretending he is. Fourteen -and-a-half years is too long to play pretend; too long for his sexuality and too damn long for his species. He won’t start high school as a closeted human.  
  
Whatever he is, he’s going to find out and he’ll find his twin – not necessarily in that order. He may never be as proud as Xavier, but he’ll own the hell out of his species. As for his twin, if needed, getting their forgiveness is the next priority. Because his twin will either forgive him with open arms or hold the world’s worst grudge of utmost disdain. A mind-reader he may be, but foreseer he is not. Not that it matters, Billy doesn’t need precognitive abilities to know the latter is an unfavorable, but higher possibility than having them “hug it out.”  
  
Just thinking about his twin hating him forever is enough to make him not want to find his brother at all.  
  
“Do you two have any plans today?” His mother asks. The only thing she liked about him and America hanging out was his newfound habit of getting “fresh air.” He spent the whole summer loafing around the house in his pajamas watching trashy television (his mother’s words, not his). She should be grateful that’s all he’s doing. He isn’t doing drugs, having anonymous sex or using his powers to fuck with people; ~~any~~ ~~ _more_~~ ~~people~~. By definition, he’s a good kid.  
  
He opens his mouth to respond then closes it. Maybe they _should_ meet up. Today’s Wednesday and America has MMA class. “I’m not sure...” He answers while texting. They’ve been driving for almost a half hour meaning they’re close to home. He could always teleport to Brooklyn... but his mother doesn’t know he can do that. Keeping all his _known_ powers from his family is not worth the added stress. He can barely practice magic without looking over his shoulder. Just last week he slammed his face into the window because his mother came in the room while he was levitating. America replies with a series of incomprehensible emojis, then sends another immediate text with just the letter Y. Billy texts back a simple _WTF_ because he doesn’t know what she’s doing.  
  
Then his phone starts ringing. He glances at his mother, who grips the steering wheel a bit tighter, then answers.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
He meets up with America three hours later, all because his mother insisted on driving him to Brooklyn as opposed to a two-hour bus ride. Approximately fifty-three minutes in the car with traffic, his mother’s passive-aggressive driving, the twins bitching in the background and the confused questions of his father.  
  
America greets him with a punch to the arm, waves at the family then drags Billy inside the building to dozens of sweaty people in workout gear. Although America isn’t sweating (yet?), Billy notices she is wearing fewer clothes than usual, and she already has a penchant for baring her legs.  
  
As he’s looking around, a pair of boxing pads are thrust at his chest. Sighing, he puts them on then puts his now padded hands up defensively. “I didn’t come here to be your sparring partner.”  
  
“Too late.” She replies punching the left pad with her right hand, “start talking, we’re gonna punch the shit out of your angst.”  
  
“What angst?” He gets a particularly hard punch in the right pad as a response. Billy sighs again, “the direct route is always the best route with you, isn’t it?” America keeps on punching, alternating hands. “Fine.” He grits out. Billy may possess telepathic, telekinetic, magical, world-altering _whatever_ but deep down he’s a fleshy mortal prone to bruising; America will punch his face in, rearranging it, before he can conjure up any defense. “My new psychiatrist suggests I tell my parents about trying to find my twin.” America halts in her assault on his hands, which he’s grateful for because his wrists were starting to ache.  
  
There are an agonizing thirty seconds of silence before she puts her fists back up. “You gonna do it?” He shrugs, she nods then starts punching again.  
  
He was sure she was going to give him that unimpressed stare she uses when she’s less than two-tenths of a second away from punching a hole in a wall. That isn’t even an expression; she literally punched holes into walls after that particular look. It’s in his masochistic nature (solely when it comes to America) to question her unusual behavior. “That’s it? I know family is a touchy subject for you—”  
  
“ _Touchy_?” He’s sure his left wrist cracks at the punch he gets through the padding. “You don’t get to spin this around on me, Kaplan, if anyone is _touchy_ about _family_ , it’s you. I’m more than happy with the family I got.” America’s “family” consists of one Jewish Brooklynite composed _entirely_ of (orange) sedimentary rock who has a penchant for picking up strays – and the strays in question. There are six in total, including America, by Billy’s count.  
  
It was a scientific whatever that made Benjamin Grimm look the way he does know – Billy met him several times; after the “incident” transpired. There aren’t any pictures of Ben before the “incident.” America claims he doesn’t look that different, but Billy finds that hard to believe.  
  
“I won’t even deny it’s touchy for me.” Her lip curls slightly and it’s oddly reminiscent of that scene in The Devil Wears Prada where Holt shows Miranda that ugly dress and she curls her lip turning away. What was the word they used? _Catastrophe._ Yeah, that was it. This is going to be a catastrophe. Regardless of the shit he’s diving head first into, he needs to shoulder through. “You think I need to tell them, don’t you?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter what _I_ think. You won’t do it anyway.”  
  
“But you think I should.”  
  
“Look. Whether you tell them or not it won’t stop you from looking. I just think it’ll be easier if you had more eyes out there.”  
  
“I have you~” America rolls her eyes, “you know why I can’t let them know.” Another thing bothering him about the whole birth family debacle is once he meets his biological parents he figures his adopted parents will no longer need him. They already have two sons, _biologically._ He serves no purpose other than an occasional babysitter and paycheck drainer. All the twins’ extracurricular activities don’t add up to a tenth of the cost of Billy’s psychiatrist sessions.  
  
“And I still think it’s a stupid ass reason.” She rotates her shoulders, “they don’t hand out receipts when you adopt and even if they did, thirteen years voids the warranty.”  
  
Billy sighs, “not only that but what if they think I’m ungrateful? I mean, I’m trying to find someone I’m biologically related to. For thirteen years I’ve had people I share no DNA with call me family.”  
  
“You have a right to try and find your birth family _while_ staying apart of the family you already have. So, as I said, your reasoning for not letting them know is stupid.”  
  
“Do you try to find your family?”  
  
“Hell no. That is one can of worms I have no interest in opening. However, if I—if _it—_ happens, I won’t jump through hoops trying to avoid it. I think you just like being difficult. You do have a flair for the dramatic, Magic Boy.”  
  
“I do not!” America stares at him. “I try not to.”  
  
“You fail spectacularly. I may not be a telepath but I know you’re still thinking bullshit along the lines of: ‘I wasted thirteen years of the Kaplan's lives they can’t get back. Unless I time travel, but I don’t know if I can do that.’”  
  
“Your imitation of me is pitiful.” Billy huffs, “but I see your point.”  
  
“Great. We’re going to Ben’s after this.”  
  
“Do I detect a sleepover?”  
  
“You detect correctly.”  
  
“I’ll call my dad.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
America attends a string of workout classes ranging from two to four hours. They developed a post-workout/ogling ritual, which consists of grabbing a bite to eat afterwards while talking about the workout/ogling that transpired.  
  
His father gave him the a-okay to sleepover and since he already has plenty of sleepwear there’s no need to pack.  
  
The door chimes as they walk into Ben’s Diner and Billy nearly trips over his feet when he sees whose occupying his usual seat. Every time he comes here, Ben claims he and America “distract customers” so they’ve been banished to the end of the bar with the wobbly stools Ben refuses to fix. He feels a thump, which is America bumping into him. Billy hears a quiet “ _oh”_ then she side-steps around him. “Altman! What’s with the getup?”  
  
Billy would be a terrible friend, and telepath, if he didn’t read America’s mind once in a while. _Particularly_ , when she tried setting him up with guys way out of his league. Example? Theodore “Teddy” Altman who, unlike previous times, is decked out in ridiculously patriotic attire: blue and white striped pants, a hideous yet well-fitted bright red sweater vest and what looks to be a blue button-down shirt. Surprisingly, the horrendous outfit doesn’t take away from the guy’s natural beauty; in hindsight, it doesn’t make him look any better either.  
  
Almost every time Billy’s been here, he’s seen the blond... with his ~~biteable~~ piercings, rippling ~~drool-worthy~~ muscles, ~~effervescent~~ hair, ~~titillating~~ green skin ~~, and general adorableness.~~ His mere existence is incredibly unfair. ~~There have been many a night he had to soundproof his bedroom.~~  
  
Ben comes from the back room and blinks, “what the fuck are you wearing?”  
  
“I asked first.” America says then plops down at the stool in front of Ben.  
  
Teddy looks down and laughs. ~~His voice is surprisingly softer than Billy thought it would be. It’s almost hypnotic~~ , “it’s my school uniform.”  
  
America shakes her head, “sorry.” It’s strangely the most sincere Billy’s ever heard her.  
  
“It’s not all bad.” He glances at Ben and America, “it is, but I’m not the only one wearing it.”  
  
Billy takes the seat beside America with far more force than intended, then stares holes into his menu. “What school would punish their students by creating _that_?” America asks.  
  
“It’s St. Margaret’s...” America glances at Ben who shrugs, “a private school in Manhattan.”  
  
“You paid for a _private school_?” America asks Ben.  
  
“He didn’t pay for it. My mom left me money in her will—”  
  
“And you blew it on a school with an ugly-ass uniform?”  
  
“When you put it that way it sounds terrible.” America facepalms, “you chose a school in Jersey City. At least I’m in the same state.”  
  
“ _That’s_ your argument?” America tsks, “I chose Liberty High because _he’s_ going there next week.” She jerks her thumb in Billy’s direction nearly poking him in the eye, “it’s gonna be fun going to high school with him. You shoulda chose Liberty High too, the three of us could’ve attended together. Remember how you were saying—”  
  
“I chose St. Margaret’s—” Teddy interrupts, “because that school is kinda like Monster High. They accept everyone—”  
  
“Everyone with money.” America mutters.  
  
“Regardless. I can look...” He gestures to himself, “and it’s okay. I’m not close to being the only alien in that school. The school has Alien Understanding Classes for human students.” America whistles. “So, it’s worth the money.”  
  
“I’m with the kid on the fancy, accepting school. Of course, I would’ve preferred you two going to a nice Brooklyn High School.”  
  
“You know why I can’t go to school in Brooklyn...” They reply. Ben groans loudly then goes in the back room. Billy knows why America can’t attend any public, private or charter schools in Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens, Newark, or Staten Island but he doesn’t know why Teddy can’t attend a school in Brooklyn. Then again, he barely knows anything about Teddy.  
  
“Anyway...” America says getting up then walking over to Teddy. It’s like ping-pong with those two. Whenever they’re within shrieking distance of the other, an argument breaks out. One time they _physically fought_ over the best puzzle game. Neither of them won. They probably fought like brother and sister because that’s how they viewed each other. Teddy is a ~~(n alien)~~ stray “picked up” by Ben. “Check out our school and we’ll see yours.”  
  
“We?” Billy squeaked. Teddy’s eyes met his and he furrowed his eyebrows at the menu.  
  
“Yes, William, _we_.” Damn, full given name? America’s serious. Sighing, Billy forces his head to raise in their direction. He could be imagining things (in fact, he’s fairly certain he’s hallucinating) but the space between him and Teddy seems to narrow by one stool. “I’ll admit it’ll be kickass to be able to fly and shit in school.”  
  
“Hey, remember seventh grade ‘test flight?’” Teddy asks elbowing America.  
  
America snorts, “hard to forget.” Right, these two attended elementary _and_ middle school together. Meanwhile, he was getting picked on by homophobes. “I still think the class overreacted.”  
  
“You flew into the burning building to get your favorite backpack.”  
  
“That Powerpuff Girl bag is a collector’s item, Altman; I still have it.”  
  
“They fly, you fly. I get it. I introduced you to the show.”  
  
“You forgot to mention our shared badassery.”  
  
“I didn’t forget.” America rolls her eyes. “Since you two don’t start school for another week you should check out my school tomorrow.”  
  
“Tomorrow? Are we doing anything tomorrow, Kaplan?” As they were talking to one another, Billy had time to return his attention to the menu before him. For the question, his brain screams lie but his damn traitorous head replies in the negative. “Then tomorrow it is. We don’t have to dress like you, do we?”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“Then I look forward to it.” They shake hands.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
The only thing about sleepovers Billy despises are his parents frequent checkups. Sleepovers are so infrequent they feel the need to check on him periodically. Much like how they find reasons to knock on his bedroom door whenever America stays over. He may only sleepover here, but his parents know America lives on her own – even if it’s in Ben’s building.  
  
For the first time in forever – excuse the Frozen reference – Billy awakes from a dreamless slumber. In all actuality, he woke up to a leg draped across his midsection cutting off his air, but he had no dreams before that. No homicidal, vindictive twins gunning for his heart. No sinister cliché lines of revenge. Just a vast, endless sea of nothingness. If it wasn’t so strange it would be refreshing.  
  
After untangling their limbs and showering, they head to Manhattan (correction: the Upper East Side of Manhattan – xoxo) to scope out St. Margaret’s Academy. “It is not an omen.”  
  
“It’s an omen.” Billy disagrees, shaking his head. “Why else would I not have the same dream I’ve had for the past month and a half? Something is going to happen.”  
  
America leans into him, “you getting a closer look at Altman in his ill-fitting uniform?”  
  
Billy resolutely refused to blush. “I meant something bad.” A pause, “ _shit_ , I meant—”  
  
“Oh, I know what you meant.” Billy sighs. “That reminds me, you read Altman’s mind recently?”  
  
“I’ve never read Teddy’s mind.”  
  
“ _Never_?” Billy glances at her, “you told me and I quote, ‘ _telepathy has no off-switch.’_ How are you not reading his mind? You can’t _not_ read it...” America’s eyes widen. “It’s killing you how badly you wanna slip.”  
  
“You have no idea how much concentration it takes to only get the gist and not read anything too personal.” He rubs his temples and America grins at him. “No, I will not use my telepathy for matchmaking.” She snaps her fingers in disappointment. “Or _that_.”  
  
“Give into your baser instincts, Billy.”  
  
“Like you?” She nods. “No thanks.”  
  
“Even if something bad happens?” Billy narrows his eyes.  
  
“Something bad’s gonna happen?” They turn to Teddy who practically appeared out of nowhere. “I didn’t think you two would get here before me.”  
  
“We wanted to scope the place.” Teddy wrinkles his nose adorably. “Not only that way.”  
  
“Right.” America rolls her eyes, “so... what’s gonna happen?”  
  
“Good question. Ask Billy.” Teddy slowly turns to him and Billy gives an awkward wave, accompanied by an even more awkward expression posing as a smile. It’s been a while since he’s been in Teddy’s proximity; he forgot it makes him flakier than usual.  
  
He eventually snaps out of his stupor. “I just feel like something’s gonna happen.” He says with a shrug.  
  
“Like us having to wear those uniforms bad.” Teddy whistles. “Anyway, show me your schedule?” Unlike yesterday’s shirt, today’s has a tiny pocket Teddy takes a piece of paper out of. “Damn, Altman, you—” America glances up, “why are you tapping me?”  
  
“Nothing’s moving.”  
  
“What?” Teddy grabs her shoulders then turns her in a full circle. “What the fuck?”  
  
“My sentiments exactly.”  
  
America grabs Billy’s arm drawing him near, “this isn’t me.”  
  
“No.” The three of them whip around facing a man wearing a cape. “This is my work.” He looks them over, “isn’t this cute and unexpected.” They stare at him. “Also, I wouldn’t break this little chain you created as it’s the only thing keeping you unfrozen.” The cape-wearing man bows. “Now then, I believe introductions are in order. I am Stephen Strange. Professor Xavier requested my assistance in helping William control his abilities.”  
  
“ _Now_?” Teddy asks.  
  
“No time like the present.” Strange’s cape billows inexplicably as _time is still frozen_.  
  
“I kinda have school.”  
  
“Forget that. Did you have to stop _time_ or do you enjoy making dramatic entrances?”  
  
“Both.” America shakes her head.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Strange honest-to-goodness _teleports_ them in front of a fancy looking building. Why did he drag Teddy into this? America knows how this shit works – although the most he’s fucked with time was a few minutes. How will he explain this? His psychiatrist sent a what the fuck ever his way for magic training? He’ll be surprised if Teddy so much as looks in his direction again. The guy may be an alien, but that doesn’t mean he’s gonna understand _this_. Billy’s having a hard time comprehending what’s going on and he’s directly involved! On a brighter note, it was the first time he ever willingly used his magic on another individual that isn’t America, _if_ he’s the reason the three of them weren’t frozen in time. Billy wonders if time resumed after their disappearance. “Where did you take us?” He hears America ask.  
  
“My home.” Is the reply. “If I am to teach William, he’ll need to train in the best possible location.”  
  
“Isn’t that a bit narcissistic? And, follow up question, how did you find us?”  
  
“I detected an unusual magical energy.”  
  
“Of course you did.” Billy grumbles. He’s pretty sure Xavier didn’t want this guy to pop up and drag him away to train _right this second_ , but he is starting high school in less than a week. If Billy had the ability to pinpoint people just by thoughts he’d be having one hell of a telepathic conversation with the professor-psychiatrist.  
  
“What’s with the cape?” Teddy asks. “Didn’t you see The Incredibles?”  
  
“I have no intention of flying near an aircraft, so I believe my cape is safe.” America and Teddy nod to each other in a Mordecai and Rigby fashion. “I was told you are also a telekinetic telepath?”  
  
“You were told correctly?” Billy glances at America who shrugs.  
  
“All this gossiping don’t go against patient confidentiality?”  
  
“Ever read the fine print in contracts that say the doctor has the right to discuss issues with other doctors?” America narrows her eyes. “The only thing we discussed was his abilities, I can assure you. Now then, I’ll need to access your current level and work from there.” A clipboard appears out of thin air and Strange starts writing on it. He glances up at the teens staring at him. “William requires training in magic, telepathy, and telekinesis, yes?”  
  
“You’re teaching him all three?”  
  
“Billy’s a telepath?” Billy grimaces. He forgot Teddy doesn’t know about his powers – or _didn’t know_. Adds one more thing he’s gonna have a hard time explaining. Teddy’s about to learn a shitload of things about him while Billy gets squat in return. ~~Story of his life.~~  
  
“Not only that, but he is also part mage and part telekinetic.” Teddy whistles, “I agree, it is astounding. It is the reason Professor Xavier contacted me. I am the Sorcerer Supreme, my powers span far beyond your realm of understanding.” America mumbles something and Billy elbows her for it.  
  
“If you’re teaching Billy, we shouldn’t be in the way. Where do we park?” Teddy asks.  
  
“Hmmm...” Strange taps a finger to his chin, “how about next to Brother Voodoo.” America and Teddy look around until their eyes land on another man, with his back turned, in front of a cauldron.  
  
“Seriously?” America asks. Strange nods. America nods back – with a destructively curious glint in her eyes Billy has come familiar with – then trots over to the man with Teddy in tow. Honestly, it’s the perkiest he’s ever seen America. It may not look like much to the untrained eye, but she’s _buzzing_ right now.  
  
Strange clears his throat. “Now that our cynical friend is occupied, we can begin your training.” His hands start glowing. “Before we begin, I have one question. How did you know to shield your friends? Were you aware of my spell?”  
  
So it _was_ his doing. Go him. “No, I—” Strange jots something on the clipboard. “Wait! First of all, you asked me two questions and secondly, you _meant_ to freeze me in time?”  
  
“Yes. I had to gauge your reflexes, which I must say are superb.”  
  
“How do you know I didn’t just get lucky?”  
  
“You did.” Billy gapes. “You aren’t aware of other magic users but having good reflexes is not a bad place to start. However, your habit of unconsciously shielding individuals needs to stop.”  
  
“So the professor told you—”  
  
“About you shielding your twin brother? Yes. He also told me about your quest to find said twin. Do not worry, this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a situation like this.”  
  
“Eleven times as a matter of fact?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Nothing.” Billy waves him off, “I make references when I’m nervous, and I’m itching to make a Karate Kid one...”  
  
“I have to ask you to refrain.” Billy sighs heavily.


	3. insert training montage

“Again.” Billy could only describe the noise escaping his mouth as a snarl as the shield he spent the past fifteen minutes conjuring explodes in his hands. Stephen Strange is a well-known, accomplished surgeon as well as _The Sorcerer Supreme_. Correction: _a_ Sorcerer Supreme. His accomplice, Brother Voodoo (real name: Jericho Drumm), _also_ a Sorcerer Supreme. Strange’s ex-wife, Clea, a Sorcere _ss_ Supreme. Strange’s former teacher, known only cryptically as, “The Ancient One” a Sorcerer Supreme too.  
  
Not only did Stephen Strange hijack a random Thursday morning in September; he took the whole damn weekend. He met with Billy’s parents like he was asking for the teen’s hand in marriage instead of asking for their permission to have him spend the weekend in Greenwich Village at Doctor Strange’s mansion.  
  
As evident on their faces, they had mixed feelings about the whole thing but Strange assured his safety. Plus, the bastard named dropped Professor Xavier to put the final nail in the coffin.  
  
Five days in and he’s no closer to finding his twin than he was before visiting Professor Xavier. Not that he expected this to be fast or easy. Doctor Strange is teaching him three things _at once_ because his powers entwine or some shit. Still doesn’t completely grasp it.  
  
Strange floats down, from who knows where, in front of him. “Better, but not quite.” Billy pants. Fucking magic, taking it out of him. “You are making tremendous progress, William, there is no reason to be disheartened.”  
  
“Can’t say I agree with you.”  
  
“That is because you are too hard on yourself.” Billy raises a skeptical eyebrow, “to an objective viewer you’re doing quite well.”  
  
“I wouldn’t call you ‘objective.’” America air-quotes, spinning in the stool beside Billy throwing fries into Teddy’s open mouth. They’ve been doing that for the past two hours, going back and forth, throwing fries into each other’s mouths. Why? Billy has no idea, it doesn’t seem like it’ll pass the time. In any event, not a single fry hit the floor. Not even a crumb is seen in the surrounding area.  
  
“I see you brought them here, _again_.” Teddy and America smile at him while spinning on their stools. “Envelope them in any more shields?”  
  
“Not since that day...” He tilts his head, “do you have a problem with my friends?”  
  
“The best friend in particular. I’d say she’s a distraction, but you seem to do better when she’s present. Sooner or later you’re going to need to step it up without her. Unless you intend on living every waking moment in each other’s vicinity?”  
  
“What ever happened to baby steps?” America asks.  
  
“Are you aware of your co-dependency?”  
  
“We’re not co-dependent.” They reply then turn to each other.  
  
“No, by all means explain to me how you aren’t in one another’s pockets.” Strange gestures in front of them. “The separation anxiety you developed from missing your twin caused you to latch onto the first individual you found solace in. As for you...” He turns to America, “he’s the only person who not only isn’t afraid of you but is as touch-starved as you are.”  
  
“So you’re a detective too?”  
  
Strange massages his temples. “I don’t know why I thought dealing with teenagers wouldn’t cause headaches.”  
  
“That’s a pretty ageist remark.” Teddy replies.  
  
“Please. I don’t need to get started on your contribution to this.” Teddy mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Continue chanting spells, William.” Billy gives him a two-fingered salute.  
  
“The children give you such a youthful glow, Stephen.” He narrows his eyes as Clea walks by him, “yet you seem so jealous of their friendship. It’s unbecoming.”  
  
“Jealous? Hardly. I just wonder how it will affect them in the long run.” Clea puts her hands on her hips, “they’ll need to find two individuals willing to put up with their closeness.” He eyes them with a frown. “Or maybe just the one.”  
  
Clea smirks, “so you noticed that too?”  
  
“Clea, please, I’m a telepath.” She raises an eyebrow, “but even if I wasn’t, it’s pretty obvious.”  
  
She nods with a hum. “In any event, I did not come here solely to bait you.”  
  
“And I appreciate that.”  
  
“I...” She glances at the teens then Strange, “have you told the boy you know his mother?”  
  
“Yes, I met her when I—”  
  
“I meant his birth mother.”  
  
Strange sighs. “He isn’t ready for that. William can barely chant a spell without it blowing up in his face; he needs no further distractions.”  
  
“That is not your call to make.”  
  
“Until he can stop dreaming about his twin _murdering_ him, I have no right letting more family members in.”  
  
She hums, “still not your call.”  
  
“Is this what you came here for?” Clea shrugs. “Fine. Let’s tell him and see what he wishes to do, since you won’t drop the subject.” He takes a deep breath. “William. A moment?” The black-haired teen glides over to him while America and Teddy roll over on their stool. “I know we haven’t discussed this, but—”  
  
“We taught your mother.” Clea interrupts. “Well, _I_ did.”  
  
Teddy and America glance at each other, then at Billy who is standing eerily still. “I figured I had to get powers similar to one of my relatives.” He states calmly as his hands start glowing, “should I go back to chanting?”  
  
“Yes—”  
  
“Uh, _no_. Did you even hear her? You have info putting you closer to finding your twin.”  
  
“A twin?” Clea tilts her head to the left, “One of the twins had twins. How interesting.”  
  
“He has a twin?”  
  
“His mom has a twin?”  
  
Clea nods twice. “Theodore, may I see your phone?” Teddy nods, rolling his stool over to her handing her his cell. “His mother is what you kids call ‘trending...’” America and Teddy snicker, “take a look.” America rolls her stool over while dragging Billy by his shirt. “Meet your mother, Wanda Maximoff.”  
  
“You got your looks from her.” America says with a nod, “I did wonder if you’d have a M.I.L.F., now we know. What about his dad?”  
  
“I don’t really need to—”  
  
“Ms. Clea, who is the grey-haired guy in the next picture?”  
  
“Hmm? That, Theodore, is Max Eisenhardt. I believe he’s Wanda’s father. Making him William’s grandfather.”  
  
“And a G.I.L.F..” America turns to him, “oh, so it’s okay for you to gawk at his mom?”  
  
“It isn’t okay for either of you to _gawk_ at any of my alleged relatives.” Billy runs a hand through his hair before turning to Clea. “All of this is lovely, and I appreciate the visuals, they’re a nice little detail, but why are you telling me this?”  
  
“Who cares _why_. This is motivation. You’ve been preoccupied with the twin thing and now you have a grandpa and mom to look forward to.” America elbows him in the side.  
  
“I’m telling you this because I believe you have the right to know.” Clea replies ignoring her ex-husband’s sigh. “Do with this information whatever you please.” She hands the phone back to Teddy.  
  
“According to the Internet, Max Eisenhardt is a mutant with the ability to manipulate metal.” Teddy reads, “he’s also a mutant rights activist and a well-known one at that. I guess that makes you a mutant, then? This x or ‘mutant’ gene can skip a generation or two, but your grandpa _and_ mother are mutants.”  
  
“Several steps closer to finding your twin _and_ finding out what you are? And you said you’d only learn magic.” America shakes her head, “what else you got?”  
  
“If you’re looking to talk to Max he’s a few blocks from here.” Clea begins, “I’ve never met him, but I met your grandmother once.”  
  
“When did you train my mom?”  
  
“When she was about your age up until about midway of her pregnancy. I had no idea she was carrying twins though. I was only told about you.”  
  
“Then you don’t know anything about Billy’s twin?”  
  
“No, but I heard Max sent an exorbitant amount of money his grandson’s way as a means to meeting him; I assumed the money was going to _you_.” Clea sighs deeply, “I swear only Wanda is capable of mucking things up so badly.”  
  
“What’s she like? My mom?”  
  
“It’s best you find that out on your own.” Strange interrupts, “one cannot simply describe Wanda Maximoff to someone who has yet to officially meet her. I doubt you remember anything about her anyway.”  
  
“Why, no, _how_ would he remember his mother?”  
  
“He remembers his birth.”  
  
Teddy blinks. “Whoa.”  
  
Billy pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t remember my mom...” He glances at the picture again, “I think she held me, but I’m not entirely sure.”  
  
“Let’s cut today’s training short and pay a visit to Max.”  
  
“I’m not ready to meet my grandpa.”  
  
“Trust me, William, you’ll never be ready enough to meet Max Eisenhardt.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Lorna’s jogging down the street when she sees Doctor Strange, Clea, Brother Voodoo, and three kids approaching her house. The last time Strange made a house call he set the living room on fire; the couches still smell like burnt leather.  
  
Apparently, this ~~kook~~ _Sorcerer_ taught Lorna’s youngest-older sister, Wanda. Her father’s first boinking partner, Magda, relinquished ownership of her daughter after a mental breakdown (or something. Lorna’s hazy on the details).  
  
“My dad’s not home.” She yells. One of the kids looks weirdly familiar now that she’s getting a closer look.  
  
“Shame. We brought them here just to see him.” Strange replies. The girl and the familiar boy are whispering to each other.  
  
“That all you’re here for? No more lightshows? No fireworks?”  
  
Strange clears his throat, “I apologized for that.” Clea eyes him warily. “In any event, William...” He points to the familiar looking kid, “is Wanda’s son.”  
  
“Shit. _Really_?” A nod from Strange _and_ Clea. That explains why he looks so damn familiar. He’s the splitting image of Wanda – except Wanda’s eyes are green where his are brown. “Hold the fucking phone. _William_? Dad shelled out money to a _Thomas_. Or am I confusing things? No, I’m pretty sure it was Thomas.”  
  
“Is that my twin’s name?”  
  
“Twin?” Lorna massages her temples, “oy, this is not how I expected my week to start.”  
  
“Join the club.” The girl mutters.  
  
“Okay.” Lorna gathers her bearings, “I remember now. Thomas Shepherd was his name and the money was for tuition to St. Margaret’s Academy.”  
  
“I haven’t seen any kids that look like Billy at my school.”  
  
“Maybe you weren’t looking?” Lorna says.  
  
“Trust me, I’d notice.” Teddy shakes his head, “ _I mean_ , I’ve been going there about a week, I _would’ve_ noticed.”  
  
“I doubt _about a week_ is enough time to see the entire class of freshmen.” Teddy shrugs. “I don’t know the specifics in terms of the kid’s appearance, other than him looking like you, but sources at the school say he’s in a single parent household.”  
  
“With my mom?”  
  
“What? Hell no; your dad.”  
  
“B-Biological dad?” Lorna nods. “This is becoming an unexpected family reunion. An aunt.” Lorna curtsies, “both my parents, my grandparents and my twin—”  
  
“Don’t forget your other aunt.” Lorna says walking past all of them to open the door. “I was gonna Skype her later, but this can’t wait.”  
  
Max’s house is nicer than Billy could’ve imagined. It’s then he realizes he’s in a biological family member’s house – the house of _two_ biological family members: his maternal grandfather and maternal aunt. He makes a mental note to ask Lorna about her hair and her powers, more out of courtesy than anything because his telepathy already gave him an inkling.  
  
“Dad should be home soon. Imagine his surprise to find out his middle child had twins.” Lorna shakes her head. “I’m making popcorn.”  
  
“I thought you were going to Skype your sister?” Clea asks.  
  
“I can multitask.” Then Lorna walks into the kitchen. “Make yourselves comfortable but don’t break anything!” She calls out.  
  
Everyone glances around at one another before gingerly taking their seats in the living room. Billy plops down on an armchair with Teddy and America sitting on the chair arms. Billy most certainly did not lean more to the left because that’s where Teddy was. No, sir. Of course he didn’t, don’t be crazy. Damn he smells nice.  
  
Lorna returns with a giant bowl of popcorn in one hand and an open laptop in the other. “The kid in the chair.” She puts the laptop on the table in front of Billy.  
  
The brunette on the screen inches closer, “so you’re my nephew? I’m Anya.”  
  
“Billy.”  
  
The brunette groans, “I wish our flight hadn’t been delayed.” She sighs. Another woman appears on the screen. “This is my mother, Magda.”  
  
“He looks just like Wanda.” She says.  
  
“He should, Mom, that’s her son.”  
  
The older woman – Magda – squints then her eyes widen. “Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.” Anya agrees, “ _oh_.” Billy smiles sheepishly. “I’m guessing Wanda’s gonna have to come in contact with dad now.”  
  
Lorna stands up straight, “doubt it. One thing about this family is our unparalleled stubbornness.” Anya shrugs in agreement. “Considering she gave up the kids in the first place, she may not want to see them now.”  
  
“Wait, _them_?” Anya blinks. “Ah. Fuck. Twins.” Lorna nods. “I seriously need to get new sources.” She sighs. “Honestly, this isn’t how I imagined our initial meeting. Not that I did much imagining, since I wasn’t aware of your existence.”  
  
“Smooth, Anya.” She glares at Lorna. “Can’t wait for dad to get here. That’ll be fun. Anyone got a camera? I need to record his expression.”  
  
“I have a phone.” Teddy offers.  
  
“That’ll do.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
The thing about having the power to manipulate metal was... locks became a thing of that past. Not that Lorna used her powers to break into places ~~anymore~~. Her dad was a show-off, he taught her uses for their powers she didn’t think possible. Lorna also realized there was metal in way more things than she thought.  
  
She decided to meet her father outside because there are a lot of metal objects in the house that can be used as self-defense. Injuring his grandson is the first impression she’s sure he doesn’t want to make. “What are you doing out here?”  
  
“I have a surprise for you.” He opens his mouth but she holds up a hand, “a different surprise but I think it’ll be a good one.”  
  
“You _think_? Does it have anything to do with Wanda?”  
  
“More or less.” His expression hardens, but that’s the norm for him. Max’s used to people hating him, but not a blood relative. After all, Anya thinks he hangs the moon ~~; Lorna thinks he’s alright~~. Taking a deep breath, Lorna opens the door – holding Teddy’s phone with her other hand. Max gracefully walks into his house taking in the sight before him. The Stranges are here, that can’t be good. Anya’s on the computer with Magda – that’s... to be determined.  
  
“Strange.”  
  
“Eisenhardt.” They nod curtly at each other. “This is Clea.” The blonde gives a little wave.  
  
“I assume you’re not here to burn my house down again so what are you doing here?”  
  
Clea turns to Lorna, “you didn’t tell him?”  
  
“Not yet.” She says from behind the phone. “Dad, step into the kitchen, will ya?”  
  
If Lorna is recording this it has to be something monumental and she’s gauging his reaction. He frowns, but complies walking into the kitchen were a kid is on one of his stools. A very familiar kid that looks almost exactly like Wanda.  
  
“Hey...” He says awkwardly, “I guess you’re my grandpa.”  
  
Max turns to Lorna who gives him a thumbs up. He turns back to the boy – while he hasn’t seen Thomas yet, he was described differently. Almost everyone said his white hair was their focal point. Plus, he was likely to be accompanied by Vision. This kid isn’t Thomas, yet he looks like Wanda. The only conclusion he’s drawing? Wanda had two kids. Son of a bitch. Now things made sense.  
  
The hospital records they received that contradicted one another? They weren’t a mistake after all, they were for two different children! It was not impossible for Wanda to deliver her children in two separate locations. There was about an hour difference in delivery times and it is a half-hour drive from Staten Island, New York to Elizabeth, New Jersey. Did she purposely deliver her kids in different hospitals to keep them apart? While the hospitals treated mutant patients the orphanages were solely for human babies. At least the first one, where he got news about Thomas. The other ones weren’t particular about species.  
  
“I was expecting more of a reaction.” Lorna drawls, “I—”  
  
“Can you give us a minute?” Sighing, Lorna heads back to the living room. The kid gulps sitting up straight. “Clea Strange brought you here.” He never met the woman but he heard she married Stephen, terrible decision on her part, then wised up and divorced him. The teen nods. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
“Same here.” The kid rubs the back of his neck. “I hear you’re looking for my twin?”  
  
“Twins.” Max nods, “ah. Wasn’t expecting that.” He carefully approaches the teen and sits on the stool beside him. “I suppose you’re looking as well?” He nods. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”  
  
“Oh. I’m Billy.” He extends his hand and Max shakes it. “To be honest, I wasn’t actively looking for any family members other than my twin. So, I’m sorry for that.”  
  
“That’s alright, a few weeks ago I wasn’t looking for family either.” Billy smiles at him. “You were in an orphanage too. I take it you were adopted?”  
  
“About thirteen years ago...” He sighs, “ _oh_. I have to tell my parents about this.” He glances up, “did you want to meet them?”  
  
“If you are alright with it.” Billy nods slowly. “Tell me, William, what do you know about your brother? If you came with Strange, you must know magic.”  
  
The teen grimaces a bit, “I do... I – this is gonna sound weird.” He rubs a hand through his hair, “I know magic... and telepathy and telekinesis.” Max blinks at him. “That’s not all... I sorta remember my birth.” He shrugs with a grimace. “I don’t remember _everything_ but I remember sharing a...” He draws a circle in the air, “ _you know_. I don’t know his hair color because we were babies, we barely had hair. His eyes were always closed, so I don’t remember them either. And I’m weirdly starting to remember things I hadn’t before.” He looks up at Max. “I guess the professor was right.”  
  
“What professor?”  
  
“My psychiatrist. He’s a telepath and, oh... he’s a mutant too.” He looks up again, “I had no idea I was a mutant.” Billy tilts his head, “am I rambling? I feel like I’m rambling.”  
  
Max puts a hand on his shoulder, “you’re just excited. If it’s alright with you I’d like to accompany you during your next session.”  
  
“Yeah.” Billy nods eagerly, “that’ll be great. Oh, Clea said you sent money to St. Margaret’s?”  
  
“I did. I found out Wanda gave birth to a boy who came in contact with his biological father about six months ago after, I believe, fourteen years in various orphanages and youth detention centers.”  
  
“He was alone all this time?” Billy sighs heavily. “I was too scared to make a move and my brother was all alone in the world.”  
  
“You didn’t know, William.”  
  
“Except, I kinda did.” He sighs again, “I had a feeling but... I was still trying to understand my powers. I didn’t know I was feeling what my brother felt.”  
  
“There is a way to make amends.”  
  
“And how would I do that?” Weird. Billy’s not picking up anything mentally from his grandfather. He’s gotta be thinking _something_. He’s classic thinking posing right now. Is it possible his grandfather knows how to shield himself from telepathy? Wait... if that’s a thing that can be done, finding his twin _mentally_ just became a lot harder than he anticipated.  
  
“Meet him.” Billy gives him a flat look. “Worth a shot.” Max taps his chin, “Very well. I have an alternative solution.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
The door opens and Billy walks behind Max through a very strange looking laboratory. They approach a blond in a lab coat hunkering down in front of a microscope. “Three hours is hardly enough time to—”  
  
“This is not about science, Pym.” The blond slowly looks up. “At least that kind.” Max jerks his head toward Billy. “Meet your great-grandson.” The man’s eyes widen as he stares at Billy.  
  
“Wha—”  
  
“I follow Janet van Dyne on Instagram.”  
  
“Seriously, grandpa?” Billy blushes then coughs slightly. That felt weirdly natural. He had trouble calling the parents of his adopted parents grandma and grandpa. Of course, that might be because Rebecca’s parents, as in _both of them_ , are blatantly homophobic and constantly give Billy the hairy eyeball even before he came out. Not that he did a good job of hiding. While Jeff’s parents just stare at him with no expression whatsoever.  
  
“Yes, seriously.” He turns to the blond, “in any event. A reunion with Vision, her grandson. Making any son of his a great-grandson of yours.”  
  
“How do you know Vision wasn’t from my first wife?”  
  
“Either way, he’s your great-grandson. And you have another one.”  
  
“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Vision has two sons?”  
  
“Twins.” Billy interjects, “sorry.”  
  
“Twins...? Separated at birth?” Max and Billy nod, “how classic TV movie-ish.” He sighs, “you know I haven’t spoken to Janet in years.”  
  
“But you’ve been in contact with Vision.”  
  
“Get Vision to bring his son so I can meet him and then you two ambush them? I don’t want to be part of this.”  
  
“Too late, Pym. We’re family now.” Billy looks between the two men, “and you have _a lot_ of metal in your lab.” The blond gulps. “If you can’t get both, just get Vision.”  
  
Damn his grandfather is scary. Billy likes it. “I’m not even sure I can get Vision. He always favored Jan over me.” The blond sighs, “and I don’t blame him.”  
  
“Have your one-person pity party later. In the past two months, I not only found out I have a third daughter kept from me for over twenty years, but two grandsons from said daughter. I’m far less interested in your bullshit now more than ever, Pym.”  
  
Billy glances at the items around the lab vibrating. Metal manipulation is so fucking cool. “Look.” Pym begins, “I _may_ know...” He sighs, “you can talk to Vision’s dad?”  
  
“No. There will be nothing stopping me from murdering him.”  
  
Pym grimaces, “fair enough. What about his mom? She’s far more bearable.” Max’s eyes meet his and Billy shrugs.  
  
“Can’t you offer something _useful_?”  
  
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”  
  
“If I can offer something...” The two men turn to him. He doesn’t know when his brother moved to New York with _their_ dad; his “bond” with his twin didn’t increase or decrease in the past five or six months. The only thing that changed was his dreams. For the past week he hasn’t once dreamed of his brother. Wait! His dreams. The dreams started a month and a half ago... that must’ve been when his twin arrived! How did he not make that connection before?! “My psychiatrist might be able to help us, now that I know a little more about my twin.”  
  
“You see a psychiatrist?” Pym rubs his temples, “is that because of _me_...” He looks at Max, “or _him_?”  
  
Max narrows his eyes at the blond. “Uh...” Billy begins loudly, “I need to make a phone call.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Seeking psychiatric help or tell his parents he found biological relatives? There really is no lesser of two evils in this scenario. How would he even explain this to his parents? Hey, I know you guys treated me like a son but I’ve been searching for blood relatives for the past thirteen years? Yeah, that’ll go well. As for the psychiatrist? He’ll merely suggest something that will undoubtedly not work. None of it matters though. He’ll just end up doing both.  
  
Hell, he’s standing in front of his house now. So he’s already halfway there.  
  
“Rebecca’s a shrink.” America says, “if anyone gets this, it’ll be her.”  
  
True, but not worth the risk if she doesn’t. Taking a deep breath, he opens his front door. The Stranges and Brother Voodoo opted to return to Greenwich Village and Lorna went back home because, and this is a direct quote, she didn’t want to be around when shit hit the fan. “Mom? Dad?”  
  
Rebecca’s head pops up from the doorway. “Oh. Hi, honey.” She’s wiping her hand on a dishrag when she approaches the doorway. “You have a guest... and you brought guests.” She stares at Teddy with a knowing look and it’s seven levels of Hell awkward. “Who might they be?”  
  
“Right.” He clears his throat, “this is my friend Teddy, my biological grandfather...” He mutters the last part.  
  
“Your what?!”  
  
Max gracefully steps in front. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am eternally grateful to you and I would never ask you to drop parental rights—”  
  
“Wait...” Rebecca looks up at him, “you’re William’s _birth father_?”  
  
“Grandfather.”  
  
“Oh!” She sighs in relief then gasps, “sorry. Rebecca Kaplan.”  
  
They shake hands. “Max Eisenhardt.” Hank shakes her hand next, introducing himself. “It was a quite a surprise today finding out I had a grandson, two grandsons.”  
  
“Two...?” She turns to Billy who smiles shyly. “It’s funny because I too found it funny that I met a blood relative of my son.”  
  
“No.” Everyone turns to Billy, “Wanda’s here?”  
  
“You address your mother by her first name?” Casually leaning against the staircase is none other than Wanda Fucking Maximoff. Billy’s sure he’s hyperventilating but he can’t hear anything except the blood pooling in his ears.  
  
“What are you doing here?” America asks.  
  
“I figured... William’s going through my family members one by one: mother, sister, half-sister, father.” She shrugs, “why wouldn’t he want to meet me? Complete the set.”  
  
“You didn’t really give much indication you wanted anything to do with him.” America growls.  
  
“You’re strangely overprotective...” She hums, “what are you to William?”  
  
“I’m his best friend.”  
  
“Why don’t we all head into the living room?” Rebecca suggests, loudly, leading the way. Everyone takes a seat. Billy in the middle of Teddy and America (for the second time today), with Max beside America – all four of them are on the couch. Wanda takes the arm chair directly across from Billy and Rebecca takes the arm chair near Wanda. Hank just hovers near the couch.  
  
America is a steady, rage-filled presence beside him (more rage-filled than usual anyway). It’s weirdly soothing. “Why...” Wanda raises an eyebrow in Billy’s direction. “Why did you separate us?” He’s trying to go for angry but it just comes out a whisper. Fuck, he did not expect to see _her_ here or anywhere.  
  
Wanda blinks at him. “I thought I was giving you both your best chance.” ~~Shit, she quoted Once Upon A Time too.~~ “Evidently, I was wrong.” She sighs, “so I’m here to right my wrongs.” Wanda points at him, “and I’m starting with you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“You’ve suffered enough already because I stood idly by. There is no one path of reality taken, but I could no longer watch you miss opportunities to meet your family.” America and Billy exchange glances. “Your biological family. You have a wonderful family already.”  
  
“Doesn’t explain why you took fifteen years to ‘do something.’” America mutters.  
  
“I have no explanation for my selfishness.” Wanda runs a hand through her hair and it gives Billy a particularly hard pang in his chest because he has some of his mother’s mannerisms and he basically never met her before now. “I... I don’t expect forgiveness but, one day, I hope we can get to know each other.”  
  
Billy mulls it over. He’d like to get to know his birth mother – he tried finding her for fifteen years, after all. Sighing, he stares Wanda in the eye. “You need me for something, don’t you?”  
  
“I do appreciate your cynicism.” Billy narrows his eyes. “But, no, I don’t need you for anything. Like how you’ve known you had a twin brother and couldn’t do anything about it, I’m in the same boat.” Clea _did_ mention something about Wanda having a twin. What fucked up parallels.  
  
Max massages his forehead. “Another kid?” He sighs, “at least I have a son.”  
  
“What happened to your twin?” Teddy asks.  
  
“We were separated in our youth and my brother’s mind was erased – well all traces of having a sister was erased. I kept tabs on him for a few years but he disappeared off the face of the Earth.” She looks Teddy over, “who are you?”  
  
“Never mind that.” Billy deflects. “You came here to get to know me. Did you plan on doing something if I didn’t take the aforementioned path I started to take?”  
  
Wanda sighs heavily, “I don’t know. I don’t have complete control over my powers.”  
  
“That doesn’t exactly fill me with much hope.”  
  
The oven dings. “Oh!” Rebecca stands, “there’s dinner.” She scans the room, “America, can you lend me a hand?”  
  
“What?” Rebecca’s eyes dart around. “Right. Sure.” She stands then follows Rebecca to the kitchen.  
  
“Do you have any idea where my son might be?”  
  
“No, I have no idea where he is. Why do you think I’m looking for him?”  
  
“Okay. I was just wondering. In case, you felt the need to blame me for that as well.”  
  
“You’re not exactly blame-free.”  
  
“Maybe you two should—” They both glare at Hank who clears his throat. “I’m gonna see if they need help.” Then he disappears into the kitchen.  
  
Teddy nudges Billy then jerks his head toward the stairs. Billy nods then the two of them slip out while Max and Wanda start arguing again.  
  
Billy sighs closing the door behind him and – oh shit, Teddy realizes this is the first time he’s been in Billy’s house, in Billy’s room! He’s in William Kaplan’s bedroom and can’t even properly freak out about it because of Billy’s damn birth mother’s appearance! Fucking fuck. “So we hide in here until they realize we’re gone?”  
  
Billy shakes his head. “I just need time away from all that, so thanks.” He meets Teddy’s eyes and Teddy suppresses what he’s sure is a dopey looking smile.  
  
“You know...” Teddy starts, “if you’re not ready to meet your brother I can meet him for you.” Billy tilts his head and squints adorably. “I mean, we go to the same school.” He shrugs, “I can be friends with him and stuff.” ~~Which will be difficult, two people in the world have Billy’s face.~~  
  
“You’d do that, for me?”  
  
Teddy nods. “We’re friends, man. I’d do anything for you.”  
  
That was way more than he intended to say but Billy didn’t seem to catch that. The black-haired teen takes three long strides across his room and Teddy suddenly has an armful of Billy. He stiffens, surprised by the contact, then relaxes. Not how he expected their first hug – _not that he anticipated this or any form of contact between them_! “Thank you.” Billy says, muffled into Teddy’s hideous sweater. Shit, why didn’t he change before heading to Doctor Strange’s place?  
  
Billy pulls back, far too quick for his liking, and beams. “It’s cool.” Teddy’s mouth quirks for a bit before he smiles back. “Didn’t peg you for the hugging type.” Billy blushes slightly, “not that I minded!” He adds quickly. Damn, he really shouldn’t look that cute embarrassed. Teddy mentally clears his throat. “We should...” He gestures to the door.  
  
“Huh? Oh, yea.” Billy nods, “thanks, again.”  
  
“Don’t mention it.” When they head down the stairs America gives Teddy a lewd smirk. “Don’t start.” She watches Billy head into the kitchen and grabs Teddy by the arm.  
  
“What did he subconsciously do to you?”  
  
“Why subconsciously?” America gives him a flat look. Teddy looks around and blushes, “he hugged me.”  
  
America whistles, “didn’t think he had it in him.” She nods to herself, “hugs are nice. Was expecting something around the range of lip locking but we’ll get there.”  
  
“Stop trying to hook us up.”  
  
“I will when you two idiots get together.” She punches him in the arm, “seriously. I am the best wingwoman ever, and my two best friends are crazily, stupidly into each other yet neither wants to make the first move.” America puts her hands on her hips, “and you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”  
  
“I don’t want to add anything else on his plate. His birth mom and her dad were arguing over Billy’s birth uncle.”  
  
“Right. The twin is a guy...” America taps her chin, “and the surname is Maximoff, right?” Teddy nods slowly. America grins. “I think I know someone who can help. Make up some excuse why we can’t stay for the world’s most awkward dinner and we’ll find Billy’s uncle.”  
  
“Why can’t you make up the excuse?”  
  
America groans, “ _fine._ Fuck, I have to do everything.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Escaping The World’s Most Awkward Dinner™ was only hard because Billy kept mentally asking her questions, even though his face showed no sign of it – or anything. Rebecca seemed to believe her sudden stomachache and that Teddy, ever the gentleman, agreed to take her home. Billy sensed her bullshit, even without the use of his telepathy. America will make it up to him but no way in hell was she going to sit with his family tonight. Wanda’s presence, no matter how hot she is, rubbed her the wrong way.  
  
“Why are we back at Ben’s?”  
  
America stares at him, rolls her eyes, then keeps walking. Inside in front of Ben, on one of the wobbly stools, sat a blond. “What’s going on?”  
  
“I need to talk to Storm.” The blond, with a giant hamburger in his hands, turns to America. “Remember that guy you wouldn’t shut up about? Maximoff?” The blond nods slowly. “Where do I find him?”  
  
The blond swallows, sizing up America, “I thought you liked girls?”  
  
“Don’t make me hurt you.”  
  
Ben laughs and the blond glares at him. He tilts his head staring at America, “what do I get in exchange for telling you?”  
  
“You won’t get your teeth punched in. How’s that?”  
  
“Fair enough. He’s over in Flushing.”  
  
“Where the hell is that?” Beside her, Teddy is humming. “What are you—”  
  
“Flushing’s in Queens.” He blurts out and she raises an eyebrow. “I was thinking of The Nanny theme song; it mentions Flushing.”  
  
“Yeah.” The blond agrees, “it’s something something Flushing, Queens. Not sure we met. Johnny Storm—”  
  
America slaps his hand, “he’s spoken for.” Teddy blushes rubbing the back of his neck, “besides he’s too young for you.” Johnny pouts. “Let’s go. Queens is like a half hour from here.”  
  
“I can fly you.” They turn to him. Johnny lights a fireball in his hand. “Just gotta make sure you two are fireproof. I was planning on paying him a visit anyway.” America and Teddy share a look. “He’s not too young for me.” America rolls her eyes.  
  
Johnny and America rock-paper-scissors until Teddy shapeshifts and flies them with (terrible) directions from Johnny. “Did you know Manhattan’s trying to put up no-fly zones?” Johnny says conversationally.  
  
“It’s a good thing we don’t live in Manhattan.” America replies, looking up at the apartment building. “This better be the place, Storm.”  
  
“Look. I slept with this guy like last week, I don’t think he moved since then.” They slip into the building as several people exit.  
  
“I know you mentioned him not being too young, but what if he’s too old?” Teddy asks.  
  
“He’s like thirty something. That’s a minimum of eight years.”  
  
“And a maximum of seventeen.” America points out.  
  
“He’s early to mid-thirties, but I appreciate the concern.”  
  
America scoffs, “we don’t care about _you_ —”  
  
“We need to make sure this guy isn’t a creep.” Teddy finishes.  
  
“That reminds me...” Johnny looks them both over, “what do you need with him?”  
  
“He’s Billy’s uncle, probably.”  
  
“Get outta here, seriously?” Johnny whistles, “small world.” The three of them head up one flight of stairs and walk to apartment 2E. “Wouldn’t’ve changed my mind, though.”  
  
America and Teddy share a look as Johnny rings the doorbell.  
  
The door opens about a fraction, thanks to the chain, and a green eye and short strawberry-blonde hair is visible, “what do you want, Storm?”  
  
“Hey, Crystal!” He rubs the back of his neck, “didn’t think—”  
  
America pushes him out of the way, “Crystal, is it? We need to speak to Maximoff.”  
  
The strawberry-blonde nods. “Gimme a sec.” Then the door closes.  
  
The three of them look among one another until the door opens fully revealing a shirtless white-haired man in sweatpants. “Wow.” Teddy whispers. A hug from Billy then meeting his shirtless hot uncle? All of this after meeting his hot grandfather. Damn, what a day.  
  
“You Maximoff?” America asks.  
  
“Pietro Maximoff, at your service.” He gives a little bow. “Hey, Storm.” Johnny waves. “What can I help you with...?”  
  
“America. The drooling guy is Teddy—” The blond absently wipes around his mouth, “and you already know Storm.” Pietro nods. “Recognize this guy?” She takes out her phone showing a picture of Billy.  
  
“No.” He peers up at her, “did I—”  
  
“Doubt it. Anyway, how much do you know about your family?”  
  
“I remember them dropping me off in juvie and never looking back?” He jerks his head to the phone, “the kid’s related to me?”  
  
“You sure picked that up fast.” Teddy says.  
  
Pietro shrugs, “fast is kinda my thing. What are we talking? Cousin? Brother? A little too old to be an illegitimate child.”  
  
“You already have one of those.” Crystal pipes in. Pietro rolls his eyes.  
  
“Try nephew.”  
  
“Nephew?” Pietro tilts his head, “I’m an only child...” America, Johnny, and Teddy shake their heads. “Son of a bitch.”  
  
“All this time he’s had a sibling.” Crystal sighs, “drew the short straw for sure.”  
  
“Well, his sibling’s a girl...” America says with a shrug.  
  
“Fuck.” Crystal facepalms.  
  
“She said your mind was erased – specifically all memories of her.” Teddy states. “Her name’s Wanda.”  
  
“Oh! Daughter of that hot mutant rights guy, right? At least you got good genes, I no longer need to worry about Luna growing up. Luna’s our daughter, by the way.” Crystal states, “I guess his nephew has a cousin—”  
  
“He actually has two nephews.” America interrupts.  
  
“What?” She shakes her head, “we can’t have this conversation in the hallway. Please come in and take your shoes off.”  
  
America enters first, taking her shoes off followed by Teddy then Johnny. Crystal leads them to the kitchen where they all sit at the table.  
  
“I—”  
  
“They’re twins, before you ask.” America begins. “And you and your sister are twins too.”  
  
“Oy.” Crystal cradles her face in her hands.  
  
“I don’t understand.” Pietro says taking a beer bottle out of the refrigerator. “My parents lied to me?” He opens the beer then takes a swig.  
  
“Also...” Teddy begins, clearing his throat, “it’s possible your parents aren’t biologically related to you.”  
  
Crystal glances at Pietro then shrugs, “birth family gave him up for adoption and adopted family lies about a twin. How very Hallmark.”  
  
Pietro takes the seat next to Crystal, “they must’ve lied because my sister had kids.”  
  
“How did they erase your memory in the first place?” Crystal asks. “Is that a thing people do?”  
  
“It’s likely a telepath.” America replies, “I’ve seen people go to them for help suppressing memories.”  
  
“Then a telepath can restore memories too.”  
  
“I don’t know. I guess?”  
  
Pietro hums, “I guess that explains why I just felt the need to come here.” Crystal turns to him, “remember? I kinda felt drawn to New York.”  
  
“We lived in Alaska, you know they actually pay you to visit? The Simpsons Movie wasn’t bullshitting.” Crystal clicks her tongue, “in fact, we lived in a lot of places but Pietro just felt drawn here. I guess his sister was trying to contact him or something. I separated from my sister for years and certain places pulled me in, places she frequented.”  
  
“You have a sister?” Johnny asks.  
  
“Older one. Her name’s Medusa. She lives in Manhattan’s Upper West Side with her husband and son.”  
  
America glances at Teddy. “Isn’t that where St. Margaret’s is?”  
  
“No, that school is the Upper East Side.”  
  
“You go to St. Margaret’s?” Crystal whistles, “fancy. We’re trying to apply for early admission for Luna.”  
  
“She’s eight! We’d have to wait seven years.”  
  
“I’m sure the waiting list is crazy.” Pietro sighs. “So!” Crystal claps her hands together, “back to the matter at hand, where’s my knucklehead’s sister?”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
“What do you mean you brought everyone here? The only people in this house is you and me since dad has ‘business’ with Pym.”  
  
“Not _here_ here, I mean in the area. The world is a big place, Lorna. Don’t you think it odd all of us are in two states? Excluding Magda and Anya but even they frequent here.” Wanda picks up the teacup cradling it, “I felt William trying to find his family. I simply made it easier for him.” She takes a sip.  
  
Lorna eyes her distrustfully. “Basically, you’re telling me you manipulated us.” Wanda eyes her over the teacup. “You made dad pick New York, then Billy and his fucking parents and let’s not forget the other twin too. Plus your twin, Anya, and why not add Magda too. Including me, it’s ten people’s lives you fucked with just for the hell of it.”  
  
“All I did was influence your interest in locations. Every fuck up you guys made had nothing to do with me.”  
  
“You sure? It only takes one influence to start a series of terrible decisions. Plus, you influenced everyone for your selfish purposes. If you really wanted to make things ‘easier’ for your kid, you would’ve been there or, at the very least, made finding you a priority.”  
  
“You don’t understand—”  
  
“Then explain it to me because it sounds really messed up from my perspective.”  
  
Wanda sighs, “I wasn’t ready to be a mother.” She ignores the _obviously_ from Lorna and presses on. “I felt William’s telekinesis very early in my pregnancy. I had to quit magic training because of it.” Lorna whistles. “His powers developed faster than my body could handle. He nearly killed me, himself, and his twin.”  
  
“Damn.”  
  
“I didn’t even realize I was carrying twins.”  
  
“Wha—”  
  
“Various ultrasounds only showed one baby. I intended on doing the whole family thing with Vision. Instead, I got saddled with two kids I couldn’t care for because one was quickly becoming more than I could handle.” She puts the teacup down, “to make matters worse I was transferred after William’s birth and when I awoke my second baby was gone too.”  
  
“You?”  
  
“William.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“I’m not sure. I couldn’t care for them – especially William – while trying to control my powers. Plus, I wasn’t sure what William was fully capable of. Separating them was the safest option but I would’ve liked the opportunity to _see_ my second born. Unfortunately, I needed William to get training but I wasn’t able to find anyone capable of raising a baby with powers like his.”  
  
“So you didn’t manipulate the Kaplans?”  
  
“No. I had nothing to do with that. And by the time I found out I wasn’t about to rip a child from a couple who tried so hard to have a baby.”  
  
“You kept tabs on them?”  
  
“I had to. They were raising my son, after all.” She frowns, “but Thomas was a different story altogether. With William shielding him, I couldn’t find him through magic and he moved back and forth between centers and orphanages so often it was hard to keep track of him entirely. Also, I don’t want to say blocked but William definitely stunted the development of Thomas’ powers.”  
  
“Which are...?”  
  
“I don’t know. I’m not even sure how William has telepathy.”  
  
“Well I’m the youngest of, what, four? And I’m the one who inherited Max’s powers.” She clicks her tongue, “no one knows how genetics work anymore. In any event, us doing the ‘sister’ thing is fine and whatever but you still have a lot of explaining to do to a lot of people. You might wanna start with dad or your brother – our brother – totally your call but those are my suggestions.”  
  
Wanda groans, “I know.”  
  
“By the way. Did you see the blond? Billy’s paternal great-grandfather? He’s Janet van Dyne’s ex-husband. That means we share a relative with Janet van Dyne? I wonder if that gives me a family discount on her clothes?”  
  
“It doesn’t hurt to ask.” Wanda’s eyebrows furrow, “and that gives me an idea of who I should start with.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
“Do you plan on telling me why we’re skipping our first day of school?”  
  
America smiles at him. A mischievous smile that puts his senses on high alert. “Not skipping, just delaying.”  
  
“Does this have anything to do with where you and Teddy disappeared to yesterday? Leaving me to fend for myself with all those people. It took every ounce of willpower I possess to not blow up my kitchen.”  
  
“Believe me, this will more than make up for it.” Billy raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Speaking of yesterday...” She looks him up and down, “is there anything you want to talk to me about?”  
  
“No?” His eyes narrow, “why?”  
  
“No reason. Just a certain hug shared between you and a Theodore Altman?”  
  
Billy stops walking. “I hugged him?!” America nods. “Why? I-I don’t remember doing that. How could I not remember hugging him?!”  
  
“Stop freaking out. You’ve done lots of things subconsciously.”  
  
“My subconscious is going to get me killed! The last thing I remembered before you deserted me.” America rolls her eyes, “was the two of us sneaking into my room.”  
  
“Oh—”  
  
“No.” He interrupts as he starts walking again. “To get away from...” He sucks in a breath. “Okay, yeah, I remember hugging him. He said he’d talk to my twin for me. I got overwhelmed. I hugged him. He smells very nice. My life is officially over.”  
  
“He didn’t mind the hug.” America says with a shrug. Billy slowly turns to her, mouth agape. America hits the buzzer, “I’m here with the package.” She announces. The door opens and she drags Billy by the arm.  
  
“Did he actually say he didn’t mind? Like in a nice, friendly way or an I wouldn’t mind hugging him back way?”  
  
America mumbles something inaudible then clamps a hand over his mouth. “Shut up. Okay?” He nods. She narrows her eyes but releases his mouth.  
  
An apartment door opens revealing a strawberry-blonde, “damn. You weren’t kidding. Pietro, the door.” Billy actually feels it before seeing it. A sudden breeze whips past his face before a white-haired guy is leaning on the other side of the door. “Come in.” Says the strawberry-blonde. The woman closes the door behind her and Billy looks around.  
  
“I have questions.” The man – Pietro, if he heard correctly – says. “What’s your mom like?”  
  
Billy eyes America from the corner of his eye then stares at the man, “are you my uncle?”  
  
“Apparently.” Billy extends his hand but Pietro waves him off, “none of that, kid, we’re family!” He pulls the teen in for a bear hug. Billy glares at America’s smiling face. “Found out yesterday. America and another kid, Teddy?, they came with Storm.”  
  
“Johnny Storm?” Pietro nods. Well, he can’t _see_ it but he feels the man move. Then the white-haired man releases him.  
  
“Shouldn’t you two be in school?” The strawberry-blonde asks.  
  
“I felt this was more important.” America replies.  
  
“Nothing is more important than a good education. You don’t wanna end up like this one.”  
  
“Hey! I graduated high school, Crystal.” The strawberry-blonde rolls her eyes.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
It was easier to slip into school than one would’ve thought. Thanks to Billy, more like _no thanks to Billy_ , they were merely a half-hour late to school and hardly the only people too. “We could’ve skipped.”  
  
“Then what would you have told my parents when they asked us how the first day went?”  
  
“I would’ve _lied_. Duh.”  
  
“What would we have done for eight hours?”  
  
“I don’t know. Lots of stuff. No point in asking now.” America sighs, “I’ll see you after homeroom.” For someone who’s never been inside public school before now, America’s handling it pretty well. But America’s more of the internal freak-out type. ~~Billy, unfortunately, is not so lucky.~~  
  
As expected, homeroom is full of boisterous individuals all over the damn place. It’s somehow worse than middle school. Billy scurries to the back of the class taking the only empty seat. He was hoping for a window seat but that’s occupied by a girl with long wavy brown hair reading manga, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding around her.  
  
Lucky. So many fucking minds spewing shit, working his telepathy into overtime. So many thoughts he can barely register his. He should’ve had Strange focus on telepathy first and foremost then worry about the rest.  
  
Now that school’s started, he has after school magic/telepathy/telekinesis practice _and_ there’s still the birth family thing. Life was so simple two weeks ago.  
  
Billy’s first priority: finding his twin. Hasn’t done that yet.  
  
Second priority: controlling his powers. Working on it. Very slowly.  
  
Third priority: deal with the family thing. It was never in him to get to know his family. Just meet them. Check. Did that. But now he has all these questions. He found out the most important one. Why ~~his mother~~ – Wanda – gave them up/separated them. Shitty answer, but better than no answer.  
  
Whether he liked it or not they were going to keep showing up. But the question remained: Was he ready to include his biological family into his life?


	4. lock(ed) and Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: takes place directly after chapter one, which is basically chapters two and three – only from Tommy’s perspective.

As it turns out, not only is Janet capable of terrifying his dad with just her eyes, she is also incredibly persistent (that could be seen as terrifying all its own). They ended up following Vision to the location his mystery phone call – the one he didn’t pick up – must’ve given him. During the trip here there were two phone calls he _did_ pick up. Janet neglected to inform Tommy of her altered DNA courtesy of her ex-husband (Vision’s grandpa/his great-grandpa). Being experimented on then given the powers/abilities of a wasp didn’t even _breach_ the list of reasons their marriage did not work out. Who knew? Janet also neglected to inform Tommy of the GPS tracker app she added to Vision’s phone. ~~Fortunately, she did not add it to his yet.~~  
  
On the way over, when they weren’t theorizing this scenario, they did _more_ last-minute reconnaissance on Max Eisenhardt because all the info they looked up during brunch yesterday wasn’t enough. Brunch. In a fancy restaurant and everything. For years, Tommy just figured it was a late breakfast, but it was so much more than that. Certain restaurants had brunch menus. It wasn’t even the only meal term Tommy never heard of. Brunch and many other in-between meals are something Tommy has to look forward to due to having a rich, brunch having great-grandma.  
  
And maybe some free clothes? She is a fashion designer.  
  
Janet flew off, like _literally flew off_ , after Vision so here Tommy is leaning against a staircase like a stalker. Not only is he gonna get arrested, he’s gonna get arrested wearing this uniform. It’s nothing short of good fortune that the streets are empty. Perhaps Janet was right about no one being on-time for school on the first day? No, that would mean the streets would be crowded. Or maybe it wouldn’t? He doesn’t know. Hell, he doesn’t know anything anymore.  
  
The brunette flies back over to him and returns to her normal height. “V has another kid!” She screeches as she grabs him by the shoulders shaking him.  
  
“W-What?”  
  
Janet jerks her head back and Tommy looks up at the building. Oh. He had no idea the staircase lead to a courthouse. Why would one adopt a kid there? _How_ could one adopt a kid there? All the boring paperwork came straight from the orphanage. “Look!” Janet lets go of his shoulders to all but shove her phone in his face, “there are different ways to adopt!” Tommy looks over the website Janet enthusiastically points to. “At first I thought he was paying parking tickets, but that would be impossible with no car. _Then_ I figured it was some other legal issue but I heard the judge go over the court hearing for an adoption! _An adoption_ , Tommy.”  
  
Adoption? Of course, things were too good to last. He hands the phone back to Janet. “Is he getting rid of me?”  
  
Janet takes the phone back then squints at him. “What? No. You don’t—No. You don’t get rid of one kid because you’re adopting another. And even if that was his plan there’s no way in hell I’d let him go through with it. I just got you, I’m not giving you up.” Tommy gives a one-shoulder shrug, “Anyway, I don’t think you can renege on an adoption.”  
  
“You can. You absolutely can. Not that I’ve been adopted before dad, but some kids who were ‘adopted’ came right back weeks later. Days for others.”  
  
“Really?” Janet rubs her chin, “that sounds all sorts of fucked up. Although, now that I think about it I heard dad mention that once.” She shakes her head, “that’s not the issue. From what I heard, Vision’s been on this adoption shtick for eleven months!”  
  
“Eleven months? That’s like, uh, six months before he met or even knew about me.”  
  
“Weird.” They exchange a glance. “Like he was gonna adopt from the get-go.”  
  
“Then he got a two for one.”  
  
“Yeah. Sort of. We’re gonna have to talk about that later. Anyway, international adoptions take longer than ones from an orphanage in the same country. The Internet said so. You saw the website. How long did yours take?”  
  
“About ten minutes? Maybe less?”  
  
Janet does a double take, “I’m sorry. _What_?”  
  
“There’s no doubt in my mind, they had papers drawn up already because they couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Every orphanage did.”  
  
“ _Every_? Just how many orphanages were you in?”  
  
“I lost count after the seventeenth? Maybe eighteenth?” Janet’s jaw drops. “I’m sure there’s a record of it somewhere, along with the number of ‘youth detention centers’ I was in. Doesn’t matter. We found out what dad’s doing. We should head to school so no one outside of those walls can see me wearing this horrible thing. I got lucky but my luck has this habit of running short.”  
  
Janet has a license and a car but they end up taking the freaking bus to St. Margaret’s. Fortunately, mostly students were on board. Of course that meant miles upon miles of hideous uniforms (and not even the majority was from St. Margaret’s. Apparently, this isn’t the only school in the area with ugly ass uniforms).  
  
Last Tommy checked, private schools operated under a set of rules public schools balk at. He would know, he has eight years of public schooling under his belt. However, he was unsure of where schools stood on uniforms. Although he never wore one until this school, uniforms were slowly becoming a school-wide phenomenon instead of just a charter and private school thing.  
  
Was every school in a twenty-mile radius getting their uniforms from the same sadist hell-bent on getting their kicks by inflicting horrendous clothing to New Yorkers state-wide? Colors ranging from _peach_ to puke green. This person or group of people must be stopped.  
  
People shuffle into the school and the aura is somehow different than it was two days ago. It’s hard to explain. Janet and Tommy walk into the school together. The brunette takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna talk to your principal or headmaster or whoever is in charge, see if I can spitball some uniform ideas. Didn’t draw much but it’ll be better than nothing.” Tommy stares blankly at her. “Why do you think I’m here? I don’t wanna relive high school. I mean, I wouldn’t mind. If I had to. I _was_ a pretty big deal back then but it was hardly my peak.” She blushes and cradles her face between her hands, “but I don’t mean to brag.”  
  
Tommy (still) stares at her, but nods slowly.  
  
Janet pats him on the back then heads in the direction of the main office. So Tommy’s here. In high school. Officially as a high school student. Cooler than the other side of the fucking pillow. No pressure. It’s hardly that much different from junior high and he managed to get out of there in one piece. Somehow. Maybe they wanted him out too? Can you annoy your way into graduating?  
  
_“Attention students.”_ The loudspeaker bellows. Everyone in the hall stops, some people look up at the ceiling. “ _This is headmaster Washington reminding you that alien understanding classes are mandatory and therefore not an elective.”_ Some people murmur at that. _“I’m also reminding you that anyone interested in St. Margaret’s first ever mutant history class should sign up immediately as there are limited spots available.”_  
  
Tommy furrows his eyebrows at the loudspeaker. Janet barely scratched the surface when she told them Max was a famous guy. During the reconnaissance bit (uh, the first one), Tommy found out Max is _the_ mutant and a big damn deal in the mutant community. A place he hadn’t realized existed before yesterday. He is also someone you do not want to fuck with, on a good day.  
  
Articles upon articles pieced in beautifully explicit details, listing all the wonderful shit Max did for mutants everywhere. It doesn’t stop there. He’s still doing things for mutants all over the world.  
  
Tommy’s mind was officially blown wide the fuck open.  
  
He wants to meet Max Eisenhardt. It sounds unforgivably fickle to think it, as two days ago he wanted nothing to do with the man. However, this has nothing to do with family. Tommy doesn’t care that the guy is his grandfather. Although that would be some wonderful bragging material. He wants to meet Max because the man is so damn interesting it’s not even funny. Like, who genuinely as a fellow mutant, wouldn’t want to meet him?  
  
Oh. That makes Tommy somewhere between half and a quarter mutant, doesn’t it? He always had an inkling, been around enough non-humans to know when you’re not a homosapien yourself. If anything, the naturally white hair tipped him off fairly early. ~~That and the whole “accelerated healing” bit.~~  
  
Never bothered with any further research on Wanda after seeing what she looked like; even though he’s sure his dad and Janet did.  
  
In the midst of the wonder that is Max Eisenhardt, Tommy found out his grandma, Magda Eisenhardt, is Romani; she’s also a human but there’s nothing interesting about that.  
  
As Max is as proud of his religion as he is of his species there are tons of bits on what he’s done/doing for Jewish people everywhere, not just mutants.  
  
He already knew he was Jewish (Vision converted before he was born or maybe during?), but he’s gotta do research on the customs, cultures, and history of mutants and Romani people.  
  
More importantly, if there is a mutant anything in this school he wants in.  
  
He makes an about-face and heads toward the main office.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Vision opens the door and a black-haired teen enters the apartment behind him. “Here we are.” The teen looks around, examining everything critically. “This will be your room, Loki.” He opens the bedroom door and the teen – _his son_ – takes a step inside. Vision contemplated getting a three-bedroom apartment but he wasn’t sure if the adoption would pull through. He hoped, but you never know with these things. Before he accidentally found out Wanda gave birth to their son, he had it in his mind to adopt a child. He barely spent any time with his parents, being raised by Hank, but the man was a good enough father figure. Not _great_ , but good. ~~Not that Vision had anything to compare it to.~~ It made Vision want to have someone to care for, someone who needed him. Being needed wouldn’t make him feel as lonely and it would take his mind off Wanda. Plus, he’d be providing a home and loving environment for another. Just like Hank provided for him.  
  
Unfortunately, in his haste he mistakenly filed for an international adoption from Scandinavia instead of one from the United States. An adoption that took the better part of eleven grueling months. Constant back and forth conversations seeing how good a father he’d make. It was exhausting but definitely worth it. With Tommy they practically threw the kid at him. Vision’s not even sure if they followed proper protocol. Understandably, Tommy can be _too much_ to take in at once. All his boundless energy. Perpetual smartassery. Lack of apathy _and empathy_. Negative outlook on the world no fifteen-year-old should have. Horrifically dark sense of humor. Brutally candid nature. Those were just a few things.  
  
Vision briefly forgot about the first adoption when he went through with the second. One of those progress updating phone calls changed that. He was gonna have two kids! He couldn’t toss his technical first kid aside for his biological one and he couldn’t not adopt his biological son because he was in the process of getting another kid! Ultimately, Vision saw no reason he couldn’t have both; if the government allowed him.  
  
Loki steps out of the room, “there are things already in there.”  
  
“Hm? Oh, yes. They belong to your brother. You two are sharing this room.” Vision straightens up. What would he have done if Max Eisenhardt hadn’t paid for Tommy’s tuition? Well, he could’ve dug into his savings. Or even asked Janet. The situation wasn’t as hopeless as he once though. Oh no. He forgot about Janet! She is not going to like this. The brunette is barely recovering from the first child he steamrolled onto her. How is he going to explain the second? Gulping, Vision checks his watch. It’s about nine. He may not know where Janet is at the moment but hopefully she’s somewhere too busy to take the time to yell at him. “Let us see if we can get you to attend the same school as Tommy does.”  
  
Loki nods. The room is not to his taste but it’s nothing a little magic can’t fix. The walls are bare; painted a soft green color, according to the sticky note by the door, said to have a calming effect. The lone bed in the middle of the room is made up with gray and purple sheets; a single controller sits at the foot of the bed. A TV stand is in the corner with, obviously, a television on it; several other things are surrounding the stand. There’s an attached door that is partially opened and there are no curtains on the window. Several open boxes are on the floor beside the bed.  
  
At least he’s only sharing living space with one other person and not a room full of miscreants. Anything is better than sharing a room with so many people you have no space to yourself. _Almost_ anything. Having an irritating roommate is slightly worse than no space, because an irritating roommate will be in your space. Hopefully his new roommate won’t be unbearable; he’s sick of moving around. “What does my new brother look like?”  
  
“Right. Yes. Of course, you’d want to look...” Vision scrolls through his phone and finds the best picture showing it to the black-haired teen, “this is your younger brother.”  
  
White hair. Interesting fashion choice. Wait... Loki squints at the picture. The hair is natural. Not only that, he’s seen that devious smile before and not just in the mirror. “Tommy.”  
  
Vision remembered giving a name a few times (including a few seconds ago) but Loki said it so fondly, with such recognition. “You know him.”  
  
It isn’t a question but Loki nods all the same, suppressing a grin. Before they shipped his ass back to Scandinavia, he met a friend in juvie. A boy as troubled as he was and not afraid to show it. It was only natural they’d click. Their encounter didn’t last nearly as long as Loki would’ve liked, but he was instantly fond of Thomas Shepherd. Spurring on his mischief. Giving him better ideas for pranks. Oh how wonderful it would be to see him. No, they won’t just see each other, now they’ll be living together! Sharing a room! This couldn’t be better if Loki planned it himself! He absolutely cannot mess this up like his last few adoptions. His previous adoptions were getting him ready for this one.  
  
However... Tommy never had a father, much less a biological one.  
  
It must be recent. Vision gushed about connecting to his son a few months ago. Loki hasn’t seen Tommy in a year. Damn how shit can change in twelve months time.  
  
“We met in juvie.” Loki replies, answering the unasked question. Why’d he cross the Canadian border? He was so distraught after Tommy left. But if he hadn’t, if he stayed, he wouldn’t be here now. Who the hell knows where he’d be. “He was my best friend. We got along swimmingly before, I see no reason for that to change.”  
  
Vision sighs in relief. “That’s wonderful. Now, just because Tommy is my biological son it does not mean he’ll receive treatment different from you.”  
  
Loki nods, “I understand.” Time to get the boys back together to unleash Hell in New York.  
  
“When we’re done signing you up for the school we’ll go shopping for a bed and some clothes.” Loki nods with a smile.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
When there’s a problem people go to Assistant Headmaster/Principal Carter. The words are used so interchangeably she’s often referred to as both, at the same time. Now then, if Carter (somehow) cannot solve your problem she will redirect you to someone who can. As a result, there is a line a mile long in front of her office. Staff members are jotting things down as they comb the lines. “If you have a schedule conflict please head to the main office, it will save you some time.” One of the staff members says through a megaphone. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. He just spent fifteen minutes in a line he wasn’t even supposed to be in!  
  
There’s another ten minute wait on the main office line before someone calls him up. “Name?”  
  
“Tommy Shepherd. I think they have me as Thomas.” The receptionist looks him up and down. “Uh, I need to get that mutant history class.”  
  
The receptionist raises both eyebrows, “the what now?”  
  
“Mutant history class?” Tommy points up, “the loudspeaker said something about it like a half hour ago.”  
  
“...” Another receptionist leans over the first one to whisper in their ear, “ah!” A nod, “right. Sure as shit wished there’d been a mutant history class when I was a student.” They take out two pieces of paper handing them to Tommy. “Request forms. You need one to drop the class you’re replacing mutant history for and the second is for the mutant history teacher. Take these both to Headmaster Washington, she’ll sign off on them then you just need to take them to your teachers.”  
  
“Where’s the headmaster’s office?”  
  
“In the same office space as the assistant headmaster’s.” Right, the assistant headmaster’s office did have a waiting room. Tommy remembered seeing other doors but he wasn’t paying attention to what they were. “It’s the third door down.” Tommy nods. “Good luck. Remember to bring the signed forms back or you would’ve wasted a boatload of time since your transfer would not count.”  
  
“Got it.”  
  
The before-the-school-year-starts test he took _before the school year started_ , gauges student’s levels. See if they require advanced, regular, or remedial classes. Tommy scored high enough to get an advanced English class, scored _low enough_ to get saddled with remedial history, and got average everything else. He would’ve taken an average English class too but Vision looked so damn proud of him he no longer gave him the puppy eyes about flunking the history portion. Plus, his guidance counselor wouldn’t let him.  
  
He missed the advanced mathematics score by a hair but the ~~bastard~~ scorers weren’t gonna let him slide just being two fucking points off. _Two. Points._ Not that he wanted to have an advanced math class. Apparently, this school does not have advanced math. No. If you’re “advanced” they put you in the math class a year ahead. Meaning he’ll be in geometry, the lone freshmen stuck with a bunch of sophomores. Not a favorable situation nor a situation he wants (or needs) to be in. Might as well duct tape a giant bulls-eye on his forehead and super glue another to his ass. To add insult to injury, math is his last class of the day. Because the universe may have been kind in terms of genetics, but that’s just about it. Thomas Shepherd is nothing more than a pretty face with a great ass and shitty luck.  
  
Eight “mandatory” classes; seven if you exclude lunch: alien understanding, algebra-1, biology, (advanced) English-1, (remedial) world history, physical education-A (ironic as it’s the last phys ed class of the day), and the foreign language class of German.  
  
It’s a toss-up between which of his unnecessary electives he wants to get rid of, in the end he gets rid of the class he doesn’t remember signing up for. If Tommy had to guess he’d say the guidance counselor did it for him because he only signed up for two – unaware of freshmen needing three. The teacher doesn’t even look surprised when he signed the request form.  
  
Didn’t know where the mutant history class was so he couldn’t get that signature. At least he’ll be out of that class he never wanted.  
  
There’s no line in front of the headmaster’s office. A receptionist tells him to park it in one of the chairs near the door, so he parks it. There’s still a long line in front of the assistant headmaster’s office. If anything, it seems longer than when he was waiting in line.  
  
The door opens and a brunette walks out. Instead of leaving, she takes a seat on the opposite side of the door writing something on a clipboard. “Shepherd.” The receptionist calls. Tommy looks up and the receptionist points to the door, “and close the door behind you.”  
  
Nodding, Tommy enters the headmaster’s office closing the door behind him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but a crystallized headmaster was not it. It’s pretty fucking cool either way. The woman gestures to the chair and he sits down. “What can I help you with?”  
  
“Uh, I need that mutant history class. I already got the request form out of a class.” He hands both request forms to the headmaster. And he thought Carter seemed intimidating.  
  
“Huh. Lucky for you there’s no need to adjust your schedule further. The class you dropped was during the same time as mutant history and, at the moment, we only have one mutant history class.” She signs both forms. “You’re all set. Well, almost.” She pulls a keyboard from under her desk and starts typing. “Need to print you a new schedule. What’s your name?”  
  
“Tommy Shepherd.”  
  
The headmaster nods as she types. After two minutes of silence aside from the sound of the keys clacking (Tommy timed it), a printer starts up. He watches as the printer slowly spits his revised schedule out. “So, kid – _Tommy_ , why the mutant history class?”  
  
“I’m half-mutant?”  
  
The headmaster nods, “is that a question?”  
  
“No? I don’t know? Maybe?”  
  
She hums, “you’re probably wondering why you’re here and not at Carter’s?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“You’d be the first. They say Carter takes care of ‘everything’ but she’s still only the assistant to me. I take care of shit that really matters. As a mutant, I deal with mutant class related issues. School gets its first mutant administrator and suddenly they’re scrambling for a mutant history class.”  
  
“You’re not just any administrator, you’re the principal.” She nods with a hum. “I’m guessing they have an alien too? With the alien class?”  
  
The woman nods. The plaque on her desk reads Roxy Washington. “From what I was told there were a bunch of aliens staffed but none were anything more than teachers, like mutants. Only difference is alien understanding is _mandatory_ and mutant history is nothing but an _elective_. One teacher, one class. It’s hardly enough to spread mutant awareness. We’re – well _I’m_ – hoping it generates enough interest to get multiple teachers, multiple classes.” Tommy nods. “No doubt the higher-ups want this class to fail. They don’t think a mutant history class has any business outside a mutant-only school.”  
  
“Doesn’t the school have way more than just a class worth of mutants?”  
  
“It does. Doctor McCoy is also a physics teacher so he has a full schedule. If we can get more mutant teachers willing to teach it we’ll be fine.”  
  
“Why don’t you teach a class?”  
  
Roxy pauses, “huh.” She points at him. “Not a bad idea, kid.” She takes the schedule and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll certainly consider it. Nothing but free time in this office anyhow. Thanks for the idea. Take care of yourself, kid.”  
  
“You too.” Tommy exits the office and the receptionist calls another student and gestures for them to enter. His schedule chronologically looks like this: music appreciation, English-1, world history, biology, home economics, alien understanding, lunch, German-1, physical education-A, mutant history, algebra-1. At least he starts off the day with an elective. It’s also good he has home economics a few classes ahead of lunch; he won’t be hungry throughout the day.  
  
The loudspeaker crackles to life. _“All students.”_ An unfamiliar voice begins. _“Please report to the auditorium for an assembly.”_  
  
The auditorium is huge. After a detour to the main office, because no way is he missing this mutant history class, he follows the massive congregating crowd until he reaches the auditorium. Everyone’s all buddied up so he manages to snag a seat in the back. He’s been alone this long, what’s another school year?  
  
“Excuse me?” He glances up at a brunette, “hey. I saw you in the principal’s office waiting room. Mind if I sit here?” He shrugs and she takes a seat. “I’m Kitty.” She extends her hand, which he shakes. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
“Back at ya.”  
  
“You signed up for mutant history too, huh?” She sighs in content. “I just think it’s great that we’re integrating. I’m so sick of school-wide discrimination! Oh!” She puts her hand over her mouth, winces, then slowly removes her hand, “I’m over here babbling and I didn’t even get your name.”  
  
“Tommy. You look nervous.”  
  
She sighs, “I am nervous.” Her ponytail bops as she lolls her head.  
  
“It’s just school, you know.”  
  
Kitty shakes her head, “it isn’t just _school_ , it’s _high school_. Hollywood wouldn’t make so many movies about it if it weren’t a big deal!”  
  
“I marathoned nothing but high school shows and movies for two weeks straight. I doubt this’ll be anything like any of the movies.”  
  
She takes a deep breath, “I did the same thing.” She smiles at him. “I like you. We should totally be friends.”  
  
“I agree.”  
  
Kitty nods, “that settles it. I feel like we should come up with a cool handshake.”  
  
“I second that motion.” He sits up then squints, “you’re Jewish.”  
  
“Huh?” She looks down at her necklace, well one of her necklaces. “Yes?”  
  
He shakes his head, “I didn’t mean anything by it. My dad’s Jewish. Kinda makes me Jewish by proxy.”  
  
Kitty giggles, “not sure it works that way.” He shrugs in reply. “So we have a bunch of stuff in common.”  
  
“What’s with your other necklace?”  
  
“I knew you were gonna ask about it. It’s a Chicago Bears symbol.”  
  
“Kinda looks like a wishbone.” He sighs, “dude, just when we were cementing our friendship.”  
  
“Oh no! Please don’t be a Packers fans.”  
  
“I don’t have a problem with the Packers but I’m with the Jets.”  
  
Kitty sighs, “dude.” She shakes her head. “You know they suck, right?”  
  
“I’m fairly certain we’re better than the Bears.”  
  
“Nope. Absolutely not. And in any event? Even if by some minute chance you were, this is our year.”  
  
“Said every Bears fan ever, since the—no. Wait. Sorry. That’s the Cubs.”  
  
“Oh.” She gasps. “Seriously?”  
  
“Them too?”  
  
“Illinois born and raised, dude. I grew up on Chicago sports.”  
  
“Chicago’s sucked since Jordan stopped playing ball.”  
  
“Dude, why?” She squints, “I’m gonna throw caution to the wind here and guess you’re a Mets fan?”  
  
“Yeah. Why’d you guess that?”  
  
“You’re not like a Yankees fan.”  
  
“I know. The pricks. Hey, what about the Mets? You can’t talk shit about them they won a world series this century.”  
  
“Oh my God! Are you serious?”  
  
“Hey, it’s the truth.”  
  
“You are so lucky I like you.” He laughs. “And my mom said I wouldn’t make any friends on the first day.”  
  
“Dude, my dad said the same thing.”  
  
“Wow. The parallels are amazing and weird. Amazeweird.”  
  
Tommy leans back, “we definitely need friendship bracelets.”  
  
“Hell yeah we do.” She lifts up her left hand to scratch the back of her neck; it’s adorned with black, grey, white, and purple bands. “I got someone to yell at this football season. Just in time too.”  
  
“Your arm. Is that for the ace flag?”  
  
“Yeah. You too?”  
  
Tommy shrugs, “not sure. Guess I could be. Never felt the need to ever bone nor did I look. It’s just sex anyhow, right?”  
  
She pats him on the shoulder. “True. It’s not the be all end all people make it out to be. Besides, sexuality’s fluid and most people don’t figure this stuff out easily.”  
  
“Yeah. My dad and I?” He shudders, “we had the worst conversation ever.”  
  
“Me and my mom too! Katherine, dear, you may never feel the—” She shudders, “my mom congratulated me on discovering I’m ace before I tried it out _because everyone else is_.” Tommy grimaces. “Yeah. Parents say they want to talk about sex but they really don’t and it’s just uncomfortable for everyone.”  
  
“I don’t even wanna recall the conversation I had with my dad.”  
  
Kitty laughs. “How did we never meet before now?”  
  
“Just moved to Manhattan.”  
  
“When?”  
  
“Like over a month ago?”  
  
“This is seriously creepy. I just moved too. About a month ago! A friend of mine told me about this place, even paid my tuition. Well, part of it. Got in on a partial scholarship.”  
  
“That’s where we’re not alike. Had to pay for the full thing.” Kitty whistles. “But, um, my dad didn’t pay for it. He would’ve but someone beat him to it.”  
  
“Someone?”  
  
“My grandpa? Only I never met the guy.” Kitty leans in closer. “I kinda wanna brag about it.”  
  
“About your grandpa?” Tommy nods, “who is he? He’s gotta be famous if you wanna brag.”  
  
“Max Eisenhardt, supposedly.”  
  
Kitty’s eyes widen. “What?!”  
  
“I know, right? It’s—”  
  
She shakes her head. “No, no, no. That’s not why I’m surprised. I know it’s seriously a cool thing, but that isn’t it. I know him. Like personally.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Max Eisenhardt. Tommy, he paid _my_ tuition.”  
  
“How do you know him?”  
  
“We’re friends. Both Jewish. Both mutants. Go to the same synagogue. Helped me with my powers. Helped move me and my mom to New York. Basic stuff.” She shrugs. “I knew he had money but damn. Paying tuition for two people?” She shakes her head with a frown, “never told me about a grandson.”  
  
“I am a rather recent discovery.”  
  
“Whoa.” Tommy nods. “Friends with Max now friends with his grandson. Ooh. That’s not deal-breaker is it?”  
  
“No. Never met him. Didn’t know I was related until two days ago when he paid my tuition. I didn’t wanna meet him at first but after all the damn research I kinda do.”  
  
“You should meet him. Definitely. In my unbiased opinion.” Kitty’s eyebrows furrow, “maybe it’s a little biased. Scratch that. It’s extremely biased. You should do it anyway. Exactly how did you know you were related? If you don’t mind my asking.”  
  
“When school started we picked this place or whatever. We – _he_ – waited for the last day to pay tuition. I was hoping he wasn’t gonna pay at all because they gave me my uniform and everything. Anyway, when we went to Carter told us Max Eisenhardt did it. My dad and I were figuring out why someone we never heard of was paying my tuition. We looked him up only to find his daughter is the same person my dad did his whole bullshit ‘true love’ summer search for.”  
  
“Your dad’s true love? You mean your mother? Or is it someone else?”  
  
“Possibly the former. Told me I look like her but I can’t say for certain.”  
  
“Huh. Neither Lorna nor Anya have children...”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Max’s daughters.”  
  
“He has three daughters?”  
  
“ _Three_? Max has another kid? Damn am I out of the loop. What’s the first name of your dad’s true love?”  
  
“Wanda.”  
  
“Hm. Never heard of her. I take it you didn’t meet her yet either, huh?”  
  
“Not exactly in a rush to.”  
  
“Guess you won’t be meeting my mom then?”  
  
“Not so good with parents or adults. Probably why I was never adopted – but people who go to orphanages or adoption agencies don’t become parents until they adopt, unless they have kids already. Now that I think about it I’m not too good meeting people in general.”  
  
“You’re not doing so bad right with me and you got adopted, right?”  
  
“I got adopted eventually and I managed to meet a few people who haven’t hated me on sight.” He pauses. “You’re giving me that weepy wide-eyed stare I get when people wanna back out of a conversation.”  
  
“No! I didn’t know I was doing that. Didn’t even know how to. I’m just trying not to look or sound judgy or anything. You’re not the first adopted kid I’ve spoken to.”  
  
“Ever speak to someone who got adopted by their birth father?”  
  
“Get out. For real?” Tommy nods. “That’s like TV-movie shit. Never saw a movie like it but I bet there’ll be one in five years. Ten tops. Shit, dude. _You_ can make it a TV-movie. I’m interested in the casting selection on who’d play you.”  
  
The auditorium slowly starts to fill in. “Who do you think should play me?”  
  
“Don’t know many white-haired actors. Come to think of it I don’t know any white-haired people. That natural?”  
  
“Yup. Can you imagine me with a different hair color?”  
  
Kitty scrunches up her nose, “kinda. White suits you though.”  
  
“I sometimes colored it.”  
  
“Please tell me you tried pink?”  
  
Tommy nods, “I did.” Kitty barks a laugh. “It fit me. No, seriously. It did.”  
  
“Hey there, sorry to interrupt.” The two of them look up. A black-haired girl with purple and black striped arm warmers is standing at the end of the aisle. Tommy sat three seats over because he saw at least fifty people bump into the end seat before Kitty arrived and at least another thirty since they’ve been talking. “I bet you’d look cool with pink hair. Anyway, this seat.” She points down, “taken?” The seat on the other side of Tommy is also empty but he’s glad Kitty shook her head. “Cool.” She takes a seat then puts her backpack on the floor. “I’m Kate by the way.”  
  
“Kitty and he’s Tommy.”  
  
Kate looks them up and down and smiles. “Good to meet you.” She drums her fingers on the arm rest, “quick question.” She turns to them, “did either of you happen to see a bald yet insanely attractive male who just oozes authority?”  
  
Tommy points. “You mean _him_?”  
  
Kate whips around so fast it looks painful. She looks up slowly at the guy she just described. Damn, he is insanely attractive. Unfairly too. “You were right about the insanely attractive part.” Tommy points out.  
  
“I know, right? Unfairly too.” She bats her eyelashes at the newcomer. “Hello, Elijah.”  
  
“Hello, Katherine.” The insanely attractive guy with the insanely attractive voice says.  
  
Kitty does a double take, “your name is Katherine? So is mine!”  
  
“Really? That’s so cool. Never heard anyone shorten it—”  
  
“Let’s focus. Shall we?”  
  
Kitty looks between them, “uh... should we move?”  
  
The guy says yes at the same time Kate says no. They glare at each other, then Kate sighs. “What do you want, Eli?”  
  
“Figured something was wrong when your dad told me you changed your mind about applying here.”  
  
Some woman on stage tells everyone to quiet down and take a seat. The seat in front of Kate is vacant and that’s exactly where Eli sits. “I feel like we’re in the middle of a lover’s spat.” Kitty whispers to Tommy who nods, “but I can’t look away. Damn my recent obsession with soap operas!”  
  
“What did he tell you? Exactly?”  
  
“He told me about your application for that fancy all-girls school on the Upper West Side.”  
  
“That son of a bitch.” Kate mutters, slumping back in her seat. “Listens to his trophy girlfriend, but _me_? Pfft. Forget it.”  
  
“If he or whoever applied you for that school how are you here?”  
  
“How else? Paid for it myself. Filled out an application – another one. Forged the old man’s signature too. Maybe I shouldn’t’ve said that last bit out loud. Case and point? No way in hell I wasn’t coming to an actual real life version of Monster High.”  
  
“Why does everyone call it that?”  
  
“It is what it is.”  
  
“Actual rich people.” Kitty whispers. “First time I’ve been so close.”  
  
Kate sighs, turns to them, and squints. Kitty grips Tommy’s arm. “You two seem like a couple of reasonable people. Answer me this. Honestly. Do I look like someone who would enjoy wearing fancy ballgowns and drinking from teacups where you need to stick your pinkie out?”  
  
“Not at all.” Tommy says and Kitty elbows him for it.  
  
“I like your honesty. My father...” She utters the word with complete disdain, “wants me to follow my big sis’ example. Be all girlie and fancy and crap.” She sticks out her tongue then shudders.  
  
“And I get called in as the negotiator.”  
  
She pats Eli on the shoulders, “job as the best friend, I’m afraid.”  
  
Eli leans his head back. “My mom doesn’t call you nearly as often as your dad and sister call me.”  
  
“Just because you look like a fully clothed porn star does not give you the right to be so rude.” Eli laughs, “in addition to applying me for a school I have zero interest in, my—”  
  
“Soon-to-be stepmother.” Eli interrupts.  
  
“ _Never_ call her that again.” Eli simply grins at her. “My father’s girlfriend, nothing more nothing less—” She sends a glare Eli’s way, “is throwing me a debutante ball I do not want. Hence the fancy ballgown question I asked earlier.”  
  
“What’s a debutante ball?”  
  
Kate huffs. “It’s a bullshit thing rich people with way too much time on their hands do to waste said time. It ‘shows off’ their daughters and helps them find rich _er_ husbands. Or in some cases husbands with the same amount of wealth but better ‘standing.’ Never a poorer husband and heaven forbid anyone marrying out of love. Think of it as one of those medieval times pre-determined marital movies.”  
  
Kitty grimaces. “Is it really like that?”  
  
“Sometimes.” Eli replies.  
  
“I’m the second daughter so I thought I had a pass. Why offer your family twice? Do you really need _more_ money? My sister did the debutante thing now she’s engaged to some prick from the southside of Philly she met at her ball. Nothing wrong with the state – excluding their sports teams – just the prick in question. She met him _eight years ago_ and hated him. Leopards don’t change spots. Once a prick, always a prick. He pissed her off then, he’ll do it now.”  
  
“Anyway, I’m always getting called: ‘Make Katherine a bit girlier’ they say.” Kate grumbles something inaudible. “‘Just talk to her.’ ‘She listens to you.’ What they don’t get is I’ve known Kate for twelve years. She’ll compromise on a lot of things – maybe not a lot – but some stuff. This fancy shit? It isn’t it.”  
  
“And the more they push the more you’ll refuse.” Kitty says nodding.  
  
“If only her dad got that.”  
  
Kate folds her arms over her chest, “even if I did want a dumb ball, which I never would – _ever_ , who’d I invite? I don’t know any...” She turns to Kitty then breaks into a very scary, Cheshire Cat style smile. “Hi! Wanna see a debutante ball up close?”  
  
“I don’t know...”  
  
“We can shop for dresses? I’ll let you keep the one you like~”  
  
Kitty bites her lip and turns to Tommy. “Huh? Don’t look at me. Do you see the stuff they put under the ballgowns? It’s uncomfortable as hell. If it isn’t those big ass wire things over the hips, it’s the that tight thing squeezing your ribs together to—”  
  
“I—back up. You’ve worn dresses before?”  
  
“Never really had many options for what to wear growing up.”  
  
Kate nods. “We’re _probably_ not talking about the same situation but all the pretty clothes my mom let me pick out? Could never wear them outside my room. Which was huge a waste.” She chuckles darkly, “if only my dad knew I donated all the clothes he buys me and everything I outgrew.”  
  
“We were definitely not talking about the same situation.”  
  
“Yeah. Guess not. Poor Katie, spoiled little stuck-up rich girl.” She mock-pouts. “Is it any wonder people avoid you?”  
  
“You hardly seem like a stuck-up rich girl. In fact, it’s kinda hard to picture you as one.”  
  
“I’m rich. Undeniably. Just never got into the Princess Morbucks attitude. Even thinking about it is tiring. Don’t get me wrong. Princess is my favorite Powerpuff Girls villain aside from Mojo but she is a huge unapologetic bitch, which I kinda like about her.”  
  
“I liked Sedusa.” Tommy adds.  
  
“Sedusa didn’t have many episodes.” Kitty says with a frown.  
  
“Yeah. The damn Gangreen Gang and those, what were they called, Amoeba Boys? How did they get more episodes than Sedusa?” Eli sighs. “Oh. I liked Him.”  
  
“Not as much as The Rowdyruff Boys, c’mon.” Kate says patting the arm rests on Eli’s chair.  
  
“At first? Yeah, then when they came back?” Eli shakes his head. “It’s like they made them worse.” Tommy and Kitty nod in agreement.  
  
Kate chuckles. “Hey. I know I just met you two but I seriously like you guys.”  
  
“That’s high praise, Kate doesn’t like anyone.”  
  
“I like _you_.” Eli looks up at her with an eyebrow raised. “Besides, anyone who appreciates The Powerpuff Girls is a-okay in my book.” She lifts up her _Powerpuff Girls backpack_ and waggles her eyebrows.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
The assembly doesn’t last nearly as long as Tommy would’ve liked. Meeting his new friends. Look at him. A few hours into high school and he made three friends. Three – same number of people in his life he’d not only consider friends but consider them close enough to undergo torture for and know they’d feel the same. However, with the latest move and then the adoption he hasn’t seen any of them since getting out; nor has he seen any of the “chums” he associated with in either juvie or any orphanage. Damn, no wonder he’s been so run down lately.  
  
As the assembly ends period four begins. In addition to being rich, Kate and Eli are also smart. Go figure.  
Beautiful, rich, and smart. They’re living trifectas. Rarer than unicorns. Other than math, in Kate’s case, all her classes are advanced. Eli, on the other hand, took the damn geometry class. He’s ridiculously brave with a serious death wish. It’s admirable.  
  
He and Kate have physical education, music appreciation, English-1, and algebra-1 together. Kate can play fifteen instruments, including several Tommy thought sounded fake. She only took the class to take a break from her other tough classes. Not that it matters much, it’s first period. How much of a break could it be?  
  
Only class other than physical education, which he miraculously has with all three of them, he has with Eli is alien understanding. Not that he (ever) expected an actual academic class with the guy. ~~In fact the only academic class he could get with Eli would be English-1.~~  
  
With Kitty? They have physical education, mutant history, and home economics.  
  
He walks into the biology lab and hunkers down in the back. A few students enter, some eye the back do a double take then sit up front. His hair is either off-putting or a conversation starter. Definitely the former here.  
  
Wasn’t this school supposed to be accepting? You could have a giant frog for a teacher (he saw one on the way to class) but be weirded out by white hair? Yeah, okay.  
  
His face is propped up against his left fist, resigned to sitting alone, when there’s a thud that rattles the table. Tommy’s head snaps up to the bespectacled teen with the immaculate uniform. There isn’t a stitch out of place and Tommy’s seen a lot of uniforms around today and none of them look as perfect as this kid’s. It’s almost mesmerizing. Also, the guy doesn’t look too terrible in his uniform. That, too, is also mesmerizing. In fact, the guy doesn’t look too terrible at all. And Kate said Eli was unfairly attractive.  
  
It’s a total _Clueless_ moment: Cher seeing Christian for the first time.  
  
Damn.  
  
“Sorry.” The guy stutters, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.  
  
“I-It’s cool.” Tommy says, snapping out of his stupor. “Uh, you can sit here if you want.” The guy smiles brilliantly and takes the empty stool on Tommy’s right. So much for sitting alone. At least he has some good eye candy to pass the time. He fills out his uniform quite nicely—  
  
“Thanks, man. I’m David.”  
  
“Tommy, and it’s no problem.” They shake hands. David puts his large bag on the table. “Damn your bag is big.” ~~Bye, bye tact. We hardly knew ye.~~  
  
David laughs. It’s a sweet, melodious sound. Maybe he didn’t screw up too badly. Kate, Eli, and Kitty didn’t seem to mind his forwardness. Not that he knows any other way to behave. “Luck favors the prepared.”  
  
“Preparing? Preparation? Prep—Whatever it is, it’s gonna break your back.”  
  
David stares at his bag and tilts his head, “maybe I did go a bit overboard.” Tommy stares at him, deadpan. “Okay. A lot overboard.”  
  
“What do you even have in there?”  
  
“To be honest, I’m not even sure.”  
  
Tommy can’t suppress his snort and he laughs, “sorry, dude.” He says in between chuckles, “I am so glad you’re sitting next to me.”  
  
“Glad to be your current source of entertainment.”  
  
“Don’t be like that, man. I just think you’re cute.”  
  
David does a double take. “What?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You just said you think I’m cute.”  
  
“Did I? I—I...I. _Shit_. I have no way to correct this.” David snickers, “no wait! Let me think of something!”  
  
“You could’ve said you think _it_ is cute. _It_ being my bag.”  
  
“Yeah.” Tommy nods, “that would’ve been good.”  
  
“Well...” David lolls his head, “if there’s any consolation.” He begins with a shrug, “I think you’re kinda cute too.”  
  
“Kinda? Pfft. I’ll have you know, I’m hella cute.”  
  
“And so modest.” Tommy beams. “Strangest meet-cute ever.”  
  
“Meet-cute?”  
  
“Yeah, man. When two people meet in a ridiculous, adorable, or amusing way that’s also kinda awkward? They end up falling in love and blah, blah, blah. The last bit doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Huh. Good to know.” David sighs running a hand through his hair then mumbles something. He’s on Tommy’s right, which is the side he can’t hear for shit on. “What?” He angles his head to the left a bit.  
  
“Nothing. I just... I thought I was smoother than this?” He grimaces. “First, I drool on a cute guy during the assembly and now this _whatever this is_. I never had this awkward stumbling problem when I flirt with girls. Damn, I never realized how exhausting this is.”  
  
“This?”  
  
“Being bi?”  
  
“Hm. I think I can help with that.” Tommy slides his phone over.  
  
“What’s this for?”  
  
“Well... you need practice flirting with a guy, right? I’m a guy. And I think this classifies as flirting.”  
  
David just stares at him for a few seconds before smiling. “See? That’s the level of smoothness I need.”  
  
“Hey, man. Either you got it or you don’t.”  
  
David picks up the phone putting his number in. “So I just call you or text you whenever I feel the need to flirt?”  
  
“You need the practice, right?”  
  
“Strangest meet-cute ever.” He repeats, handing the phone back to Tommy, “I’ll be sure to turn on the charm.”  
  
“I’d expect nothing less.”  
  
“Alright kiddies, settle down.” A bald man strolls into the classroom with a lab coat that would look like a trench coat if it were a different color. Do trench coats come in white? Could a lab coat double as a trench coat? Tommy needs to research that. The man also has an eye patch over his left eye. Work related injury? Beacon of intimidation? Tommy needs to know! “I don’t know what terrible things you’ve done in your life up to this point but clearly your karma is out of balance to get me as your teacher.”  
  
“Did he just quote Annalise Keating?” David tilts his head and stares blankly at Tommy, “you don’t watch How To Get Away With Murder?”  
  
“Mr. Shepherd.” Tommy stiffens, “is there something you and Mr. Alleyne find more interesting than me speaking?” Both of them shake their heads furiously. “Good. As I was saying, welcome to biology class, I am your biology teacher Nicholas Fury. For those of you who don’t know, biology is a natural science concerned with the study of life and living organisms. You _might_ want to jot that down somewhere.”  
  
David slides a piece of paper Tommy’s way that says: _how did he know our names?!_ Tommy starts to shrug then stops slowly turning to David wide-eyed. That’s a damn good question. He never heard any names called for attendance; not that he was paying attention, so he very well could’ve missed it.  
  
As Fury starts explaining the syllabus Tommy sighs a bit in relief. First class of the day, first day of school and he already got called out. His dad’s proud look will melt into one of pure exasperated, resigned disappointment. He spent the past five months with the man, three and a half of those five months – all the while in the midst of the traveling – he was in his last year of middle school. Tommy knows the look of disappointment; had inflicted it upon him on occasion. Whether Vision realizes he’s doing it or not, Tommy knows the look. He’s used to it, Vision’s not the only one who’s looked at him that way.  
  
David looks like not only did someone just sucker punch his grandma in the face but murdered his dogs in cold blood before his very eyes while forcing him to eat an entire lemon. It’s quite a complex look. Even the explanation was complex. “You okay?” Tommy whispers. He’s always been a people whatever percentage of mutant he is. It’s always instant connections with him. Sometimes it blossoms into something more but if you can’t enjoy a spontaneous conversation with a person when you just met them, you’re not gonna have many spontaneous conversations when you get to know each other. And Tommy is very spontaneous. One of the quirks his dad says he inherited from Janet. Plus, he’d hate for this to ruin their flirting. David needs the practice after all. ~~Not that he’s any better.~~  
  
“Yeah.” David whispers back, glancing up at Fury who pauses briefly before writing on the chalkboard again. “I guess I’ll be okay.”  
  
“Is it weird I like him?” David stares at him like he’s grown a second head or something. “He’s intimidating but not like in a bad way. A teacher should command the respect of students but not, um, force it.”  
  
David’s still staring at him until he eventually physically shakes out of his stupor. “Wow. You are something else.”  
  
“Not sure if that’s a good thing or not.”  
  
“It’s good. Definitely good.” The blonde in front of them turns around handing them both a piece of paper. The seat next to her is empty. Now that he looks around a couple of empty seats are around. He would’ve been screwed if David hadn’t bumped into his table. Might’ve actually gotten into trouble. “What’s this?” David asks. Good. At least Tommy wasn’t the only person not paying attention... again. Hopefully, the blonde won’t rat them out. Tommy doesn’t need Fury calling him out again.  
  
The blonde smiles, “the syllabus. Doctor Fury says not to lose it.” She jerks her thumb toward the chalkboard. Underlined twice is  Do. Not. Lose. The. Syllabus. _You. Will. Regret. It._ might not have been written beside it but it is definitely implied. In bold print.  
  
“Thanks, uh...?”  
  
“Sharon.”  
  
“Thanks, Sharon.” David smiles, taking the syllabuses then gives the other to Tommy. Wow. He is better with girls. “I’m David and he’s Tommy.” Tommy gives a wave and Sharon waves back. David adjusts his glasses. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”  
  
Sharon frowns, “I don’t think so.” She turns around briefly and Fury’s still (thankfully) writing – and damn is he ever filling that chalkboard. They don’t have to write all this down, do they?  
  
Sharon turns back around and David glances at Tommy whose head is down on the table as he’s writing. It looks kinda awkward but he’s not complaining. He’s cute, obviously, and funny. But he makes David feel weird... and clammy and infuriatingly nervous yet, somehow, also calm. Even the cute, buff – insanely buff – guy he drooled on didn’t make him feel clammy or this damn contradictory. Can you feel at ease with the same person making you nervous? Bi as he may be (and openly out for about thirteen minutes. As he actually just casually outed himself while poorly flirting), he’s never actively thought about kissing another guy until Tommy stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth. Now he can’t stop thinking about kissing another guy – particularly _this guy_.  
  
David can’t read people for shit. Tommy seems like an open book, though. Which is good. Fewer chances for an embarrassing misunderstanding. He taps Tommy on the arm. Oh, he’s left-handed. Interesting. “Lemme see your schedule?” Do these uniforms have pockets? He doesn’t know where Tommy takes his schedule out from but he puts it on the table then goes back to writing.  
  
Huh. They have every elective, gym, and English-1 together. Also, this class – obviously. Six classes total. More than half the school day. Lucky~ They have a foreign language class at the same time but when the hell would he ever use German? Conversely, when will he ever use French? Might be able to swap the language class before the school day ends. He picked his language at random. Knew Spanish since elementary school so he didn’t want to take that.  
  
“Ms. Carter.” Sharon’s body snaps up so fast it’s dizzying. Fury jerks his head toward the door where the assistant headmaster is standing. Everyone oohs loudly like the five-year-olds they not-so secretly are. David can’t see what Sharon is doing because her back is facing them. However, he does hear her sigh heavily before she stands up stiffly then walks off. The assistant headmaster surveys the classroom before walking off behind Sharon.  
  
“Is she in trouble?” One of the brave/foolish students asks Fury.  
  
“I guess we’ll find out when she comes back.” Fury gestures to the empty station where Sharon’s backpack still lays. Everyone glances at it, Fury, then the bag again. “But for now, let’s focus on the class. It’s 2016 and the Internet is a big deal but we still have old-fashioned paper textbooks.” The class boos, “and all of you are going to get one and a worksheet booklet. If you lose either of these you might as well drop this class because even if you get  all your little freshman buddies to help you out, you will not pass.”  
  
The loudspeaker screeches and everyone cringes. _“Doctor Fury?”_  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
_“Is there a Thomas Shepherd in your class?”_ Tommy slowly lifts his head in time for the entire class to stare at him. Of course, they’d know who he is. Fury called his name ten minutes into the class. Both of them, but no one’s looking at David. Then again, David’s name didn’t get called over the damn loudspeaker.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
_“Can you please send him to the main office.”_ Then it screeches off. David pats him on the arm as he walks up to the teacher’s desk to get a hall pass. After Tommy leaves, Fury calls up the first row to get their stuff. David’s six rows away. He’s got time.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Janet is in the main office. Tommy cautiously – well, with as much caution as he can muster – enters. When the receptionist’s eyes flit toward the door Janet turns around then stands. “Hey!”  
  
“Hi?”  
  
“I went back to your apartment and your dad’s not there. So I thought he’s probably at work, _wherever work is_ , but that wouldn’t explain the duffel bag I nearly tripped over!”  
  
“So he brought the new kid home. What’s wrong with that? They’re gonna be living there too, right?”  
  
“ _You_ just started living there and now someone else is encroaching on your territory.”  
  
“I know I’m in the fancy school but _encroaching_?” Janet nods furiously. “You brought me out of class, for this? It’s not a big deal, I’m used to sharing space with other people.”  
  
“This isn’t an orphanage or a juvenile detention center, Tommy; it’s your home. The home your dad is bringing a stranger in.”  
  
“Not a stranger to him and they’ll stop being a stranger when we meet them.”  
  
“I don’t trust Vision’s judgment, present company excluded.”  
  
Tommy frowns, “neither do I.” He shrugs, “what can we do? If he waited eleven months to adopt this kid I doubt he’s be willing to send them back Plus, it wouldn’t be right to.”  
  
“True. I hate how logical you’re being.” She sighs, then almost immediately perks up. “I’m gonna wait for him at the apartment~” She sing-songs. “Wanna watch the shitshow unfold?”  
  
“As much as I’d love to, and I can’t believe I’m gonna say this out loud but, I wanna stay.” Janet blinks at him. “I know. I’m pathetic.”  
  
“You’re not. This is the first time you’ve interacted with people your age in, what, two months?”  
  
“Month and a half.”  
  
“See?” She bats her eyelashes at him, “and I bet you’ve already made some friends?”  
  
“I guess. Surprisingly fast.”  
  
“There you go! Stay. Make more friends. Get a cute boyfriend or girlfriend. Hell, get a polyamorous relationship going.” Tommy rubs the back of his neck, “no!” She gasps. “You already got someone?!”  
  
“No!” He shushes her and she nods, dead serious look on her face. “I just met someone I might be interested in.”  
  
She waggles her eyebrows, “ _might be_ , huh?” He sighs. “You need to tell me all about how it works out.” She winks at him and he sighs, again – heavier this time. “So...”  
  
“So?”  
  
“Potential boyfriend or girlfriend?”  
  
Tommy clears his throat, “boyfriend.”  
  
Janet squeals. “I can’t wait. You think he’s interested in you too?”  
  
“We just met.”  
  
“You realized you’re interested.”  
  
“Good point.” He shrugs, “I’d like to think so.”  
  
“Well that’s good because you’re far from an optimist. By the way, Vision told me about ‘the talk.’ I am so sorry.” She shakes her head, “I’ll give you a grown up talk.”  
  
“A ‘grown up’ talk?”  
  
“Yeah. One where I don’t talk down to you or swear I know you better than you know yourself. Or know what’s best for your body.” Tommy grimaces.  
  
“Any talk would be better than the one I had with dad.”  
  
“In case you hadn’t realized, your dad’s straight. Every heterosexual analogy you can make straight. Blah, blah, blah. _Boring_. He’s only gonna tell you things he’s looked up online because he can’t personally understand attraction to the same sex or a sex that’s not your exact opposite. Not only can I but I already have.” Tommy whistles. “Avoid every romance cliché you’ve seen in TV or movies. Whoever this guy is, he’s not gonna be interested in some fake hyped out version of yourself. Be you. That’s the best advice I can give. Best advice anyone can give. If he doesn’t like you for you he’s not worth liking. Never change yourself for someone else.”  
  
“Is that what you did with your ex-husband?”  
  
Janet barks out a laugh. “Got it in one, huh? Yeah. I tried to be someone I’m not. Plus, Hank’s a douche so it didn’t work out for either of us. I owe him a kick in the balls the next time I see him.”  
  
“I’ll remind you.”  
  
“Bring it in.” She gives him a one-armed hug and kisses him on the head. “Get your flirt on, kid. I’ll see you at home. Love you.”  
  
“Y-You too.”  
  
When Tommy returns to the classroom Sharon’s there looking extremely worn out. He’s a bit in shock himself. No one’s ever said they love him before; not even like him, barely mentioned tolerating him. It’s usually insults and the like directed toward him. How can Janet even be sure she feels anything toward him? They’ve only known each other a few days. His dad’s never even said anything like that and it’s been months. It’s surreal. He actually has a family. Didn’t feel like much when they were traveling, still doesn’t feel like much, and sure it’s only two people (three with this new kid) but it’s still a family. _His family._ To quote the only Disney movies he’s ever seen (much to Janet’s horror): His family is little and broken but still good. ~~If he ever meets Max it’ll be four.~~  
  
He gives Fury the pass then walks back to his station feeling everyone’s eyes on him. Sharon turns around and frowns. “Where’d you go?”  
  
“Main office. Uh, family thing? It’s cool, though. Where’d you go?”  
  
“Assistant Principal’s. Sort of a ‘family thing’ as well.”  
  
He must’ve arrived just in time because Fury calls their row up. Only he and David are in the last row, so he actually calls up both the sixth and seventh row: the two kids across from Sharon, Sharon herself, then him and David. The three of them return to their seats with their books in tow and Fury gets up then starts erasing everything he wrote on the chalkboard. “Congratulations.” He says then sits down, “we still have ten minutes of class time. How about you use said time to do some silent reading. Homework’s on the first two chapters. Due tomorrow.” The class looks at him horrified. “Told you, you guys were unlucky to get me. Just ask the sophomores that survived my class last year.”  
  
The man actually used the word _survived_. This class is not going to be easy, but it’s gonna be so much fun! Tommy feels a smile creeping up on his face, David sends him a withering glare. He mouths _what_ at him and David sighs shaking his head.  
  
Not a sound was uttered when everyone hastily exited the biology lab. David’s sure half the class is contemplating switching out classes to get a new teacher, as biology is a mandatory class for freshmen and cannot be dropped. Of course, if they fail they’ll have to double up on their science classes for next year or wait until senior year to repeat all the classes failed in the previous years.  
  
Science is that one damn class that’s tough no matter if it’s advanced or not. Not that he scored high enough to get advanced biology. That score was borderline impossible. The other classes: math, English, history, had scores ranging in the late one-hundreds. Biology’s required score was like two-hundred forty-something. He doesn’t remember. The point is, biology is his only non advanced class. Well, that and history because who wants advanced history? Opted outta that one quick. If any class shouldn’t have an advanced option it should be history.  
  
“What’s the asterisk by your history class for?” Sharon asks Tommy, handing his schedule back to him.  
  
“Remedial.”  
  
Sharon stops walking, “what’s that mean?”  
  
“It means I failed the placement test but still need the class so they’re gonna teach me shit I need to know plus stuff in the actual class.”  
  
“That sounds exhausting.” She sighs, pauses, then frowns. “How’d you fail the history part when you have advanced English?” He shrugs. She turns to David. “That makes no sense. Does it make sense to you?”  
  
“No one’s good at history.” She gives him the hairy eyeball then starts walking again.  
  
Other than biology – and David’s starting to think advanced biology is just a myth – he has alien understanding with Sharon; Tommy has no other classes with her. All Sharon’s classes are advanced too but just at different times than his. The whole school has lunch at the same time but that’s not a class so it doesn’t count. Sharon bids them adieu, then he and Tommy head to home economics.  
  
Inside the classroom, a brunette with a high ponytail beckons them over. Beckons _Tommy_ over, David’s never seen this girl before. “Hey, man. New friend?”  
  
“Yeah. This is David. David, meet Kitty.”  
  
She waves. Tommy, Sharon, and now Kitty. Is everyone he meets gonna be attractive? This school year, man. He waves back. Wait. Does he have to share Tommy with her?  
  
She seems think the same thing as she eyes him, then table, then Tommy before eyeing him again. The desk has three stools. Good thing she wasn’t in biology with them. “You didn’t forget about our friendship bracelets, did you?” Tommy rubs the back of his neck. “Dude!”  
  
“Sorry! David’s great.”  
  
David blushes. “We didn’t talk about friendship bracelets.” He stammers out.  
  
Tommy takes a seat in the middle chair, leaving David to sit on the left. “But we should totally make some.” Tommy says.  
  
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or joking.”  
  
“I was serious about the friendship bracelets.” Kitty says. “I never joke about friendship bracelets.” She unzips her bag and there’s a bunch of colorful strings.  
  
“Whoa. Did you start?”  
  
“Not yet. I gotta make some for—” There’s a knock on the doorframe, “Kate.” David looks up at the doorway. He saw that black-haired girl on the assistant principal’s office line earlier today. He wouldn’t be able to forget the arm warmers if he tried. Doesn’t know if her arms are just cold or if she’s trying to make a fashion statement. With this school it’s probably both.  
  
The girl saunters – yes, _actually saunters_ – into the classroom. “Your invitations.” She looks up at David then blinks, “ooh. You get to come to.”  
  
He takes the invitation offered. “Thanks. Come to what?”  
  
“My belated fifteenth birthday party.” She takes an exaggerated bow. “Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, at your service.”  
  
“Uh, I’m David.”  
  
“Charmed to meet you.” He glances at Tommy who gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Also...” She hands Kitty another paper that looks like another invitation; a very fancier, _laminated_ invitation. “RSVP to the debutante ball.”  
  
“How’d you get it so fast?” Kitty asks. The brunette actually has _three_ fancy invitations in her hands and gives him and Tommy the other two.  
  
“Always had them. Forgot to give them out earlier.”  
  
“A debutante ball...” The three of them look at David. “You mean one of those fancy dance parties where the girls all wear poofy dresses?”  
  
Kate’s eyes light up. “Yes.”  
  
Kitty turns to him, “how did you know that?”  
  
“My middle school had one of those at the end of the year. Called it a cotillion, though.”  
  
“It is called that. A debutante cotillion. But if they use too many fancy words in one sentence heads will explode. Plus, cotillion is kind of a cool word and I don’t wanna get sick of hearing it just yet. Also, about the dresses? The more ridiculously poofy, the better.”  
  
Tommy gives her an unbelievably blank stare. “ _You_ are going to wear a ridiculously poofy dress?”  
  
“What? Hell no. I prefer to go the ways of anti-poofy. We need to go shopping over the weekend and show our dresses to the Madame.”  
  
“We have to show the dresses now? It’s _two months_ away!”  
  
Kate shrugs. “Don’t make the rules. All I know is, if two girls wear the same dress everyone flips out. I mean, do guys get pissed if another guy’s wearing the same tux?”  
  
“I saw that happen once.” David admits. “A fight broke out because two guys had the same suit down to the tie. Both guys ended up in the hospital.”  
  
“Where did that happen?” Kitty asks.  
  
“Huh? Oh, my cousin’s wedding.”  
  
Kate grins, “I like you. Try not to wear the same tie as anyone else, alright? We’ll save the fights for something even more senseless. Like using the wrong salad fork or mistaking a bisque for a chowder.” The three of them exchange quick, equally confused glances. “Anyways, I better book it to class. Wonderful to meet you, David. See you guys later.” She actually _skips_ out of the classroom.  
  
“I like her too.”  
  
Tommy scratches his head, “what the hell is a bisque?” He takes out his phone.  
  
“Kate told us people avoid her.”  
  
Kitty looks downright miserable. “Probably because of her surname?” Kitty’s expression, if possible, looks even more forlorn. “She said her name was Bishop, right?” Still somber, Kitty nods. How does someone manage to nod sadly? “That name’s always popping up on social media. I try to look at my damn news feed on my phone and twitter’s following around a Bishop’s search for shoes.”  
  
“Kate did say she has a sister who is girly.” Kitty says. “Plus, Eli mentioned something about her soon-to-be stepmother.” He wasn’t going to bother asking who this Eli was, he’s already out of the loop. But, hey, he did get invited to a belated birthday party next weekend and a debutante cotillion that’s two months away.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
As soon as Vision put the key in the door he knew something was up. Loki looked at him questioningly but he swallows the lump in his throat and slowly opens the door. It wouldn’t do him well to break down in front of his son. He would’ve closed the door behind him immediately if it weren’t for the bags he was carrying.  
  
After taking their shoes off, they take everything into the living room. Vision nearly shrieks and drops everything as he sees Janet swirling a wine glass in one hand and texting on her phone in the other. “Hey, V.” She says casually, still looking at her phone, “interesting guest you have.”  
  
“H-Hello, Janet.” She hums in response. “I planned on calling you once we got settled.” She hums again. The fact that she’s not looking at him is really unnerving.  
  
Loki turns to him, “why are you on a first name basis with Janet van Dyne?” Of course, he’d know Janet! She’s an international celebrity.  
  
“She’s my grandmother.” He mutters.  
  
“Huh. You’re related to Janet van Dyne.” Loki states, “wait, grandmother?”  
  
“ _Uh-huh_.” She takes a sip from the wine glass. Vision gulps as she finally looks at them. He expected mad. He prepared for mad, he is not sure how to take this temperament. It’s like she’s gonna blow up at him later when he’s completely unprepared, “I guess you’re my great-grandson now. You got a name?”  
  
“Loki.”  
  
She nods. “Nice to meet you. Circumstances notwithstanding.” Vision looks away. He’s only indirectly felt the fury of Janet’s wrath once, never had it completely used on him. It’s a terrifying thought. The brunette stands gracefully, gently depositing her glass and phone on the table then approaches Loki. She twirls her finger in a spin motion and he turns around three-hundred sixty degrees. “Welcome to the family, kid.” She pats him on the shoulder. “You’re shorter than I am.”  
  
Janet and Tommy are the same height (roughly) making them both a good seven inches taller than Loki is. Huh. Vision never realized how short Loki is, and he’s almost a year older than Tommy. Ah, the wonders of children. Oh. Children. Tommy doesn’t know about this yet, does he?  
  
Not a good end to the first day of school.  
  
“You know...” Janet muses, “I have an extra bed. Think it’s queen-sized.”  
  
“You have an extra bed?”  
  
“I can _splurge_ every once in a while, can’t I?” She raises an eyebrow challengingly at Loki who raises one back, “I accidentally bought two and the store doesn’t accept refunds. Take the bed or leave it, kid.”  
  
“I accept.”  
  
Vision looks between them. He’s not sure how he feels about this budding relationship. ~~Honestly, he’s not sure how he feels about anything anymore~~.  
  
Time doesn’t pass nearly as fast as Vision would like. He just spent the past four hours listening to Janet and Loki bicker. About what? He has no idea but for every point one makes the other starts up the argument. ~~It reminds him of his parents.~~ When he hears a key in the door he can’t get up fast enough.  
  
Tommy takes a step back as Vision opens the door, smiling brightly. “Welcome home!” Tommy eyes him suspiciously. Damn the boy’s observant nature. “How was school?” He can _yell_ and it won’t drown out the arguing.  
  
“S’alright.” He takes his shoes off and Vision notices he stares at the floor a bit longer than usual. “My sibling’s here.”  
  
“Janet told you?”  
  
“Guess you can say that.” He walks into the living room, Vision hovering awkwardly beside him. Boxes are strewn haphazardly and a duffel bag, presumably the same one Janet said she nearly tripped over, is on the couch. His bedroom door is wide open but he’ll get back to that later. His eyes land back on the couch. Janet looks up and waves before looking down at something. Tommy peers over the couch at the black-haired teen typing furiously on the laptop. When the teen turns his head to the side Tommy gets a good glimpse of his profile. “Wait a sec, _Loki_?” The teen’s head snaps up and he happily climbs over the couch to hug Tommy. “You’re my new sibling?”  
  
Loki releases him, “isn’t this great?!” Tommy nods wordlessly.  
  
“What are the chances of V adopting the kid you befriended in juvie two years ago?”  
  
A man comes out of the kitchen wiping his hands. “Very unlikely.”  
  
Loki, still leaning on Tommy, turns slightly. “Who are you?!”  
  
The man laughs heartily. “I do enjoy making an entrance. Vernon van Dyne, you know my daughter.” Janet gives a bored wave. Loki, Tommy, and Vision stare at the man. A full minute ticks by then the grey-haired man lets out a booming laugh. “Why the faces? When Jan told me about my great-great-grandson I had to see him in person! Oops, I meant great-great-grandson _s_.”  
  
“Whoa. I have a great-great-grandfather?”  
  
Vision walks over to the man and clasps his hands. “It is an honor to finally meet you, great-grandpa.”  
  
The man – Vernon – laughs again. “You too. Jan’s told me so much about you, V. Feel like I’ve known you for years.”  
  
“Yes, I’ve heard many stories about you as well.”  
  
“But you...” Vision slowly detaches his hands so Vernon can walk over to Tommy. “I can’t believe anyone wouldn’t want you.” He cradles Tommy’s face in his hands. “Stuck in the system for most of your childhood?” He sighs heavily, “I’ve been there. Twelve years myself. You stuck it out. Hung in there. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I’m proud of you.”  
  
“T-Thank you.” He pulls Tommy in for a hug.  
  
“Okay, Dad, a bit too much emoting for one day.”  
  
“Yes.” He clears his throat releasing Tommy a bit, but not much. He puts an arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “It’s my great-great-grandson, Jan.”  
  
The brunette rolls her eyes. “Let go, Dad.”  
  
Vernon huffs but complies. Only to grab Tommy’s face and squish it, “he’s kinda _pale_ , isn’t he?” Everyone stares at Vernon. “What?”  
  
Janet winces. “That’s kinda racist.”  
  
“It is not. I did not say anything racist. I said he’s kinda pale. A general observation. The boy has a _sliver_ of color on him.” He holds up his phone against Tommy’s face, “the color wheel suggests fawn.” Janet facepalms so hard it echoes. “If _Pym_ —” He spits the name out like it’s acid on his tongue, “is somehow involved he’s at least an eighth white, right? Maybe a sixteenth?”  
  
Vision looks at Janet who gestures in a seesaw motion. “Somewhere in between?”  
  
Vernon hums, “at least he has _some_ color. My ancestors would weep otherwise.” Janet pinches the bridge of her nose. “Considering all parties involved, we could’ve drew the short straw with genetics. One where he’d burn alive in the sun.” He glances at Loki then does a double take, “no offense to _you_.”  
  
“None taken.”  
  
“We’ve seen the pictures. His m—” Janet makes a frantic cut motion as her eyes dart to Tommy. “I’m assuming you haven’t told _him_ yet.” He diverts smoothly.  
  
Janet waves a hand dismissively. “Not my job to.”  
  
“Oh.” Vision points to himself, “then it is mine?”  
  
“Tell him, don’t tell him. With all the bullshit that asshole’s done to the two of you? Leave him in the dark.” Yup. Janet’s father alright. “Just _mentioning_ that man is enough to make my skin crawl.” Vernon plops down on the couch. “Let’s talk about a happier subject. Tell your great-great-grandpop how your first day was, Thomas.” He pats the seat beside him and Tommy takes a seat in it. The poor kid’s still clutching his bag. He’s been abruptly hugged twice in less than ten minutes, and he’s far from tactile.  
  
“S’okay.” He digs into his bag and holds out two pieces of paper Vision hesitantly takes. “A party invitation. Two, actually.”  
  
Vision frowns staring at one invitation. Janet sighs loudly then holds out her hand. Vision walks over to her and gives her the papers. Janet’s eyebrows shoot up. “You know Kate Bishop?!”  
  
“Just met her today.”  
  
“I met Derek Bishop.” Vernon makes a meh gesture, “I’m sure his daughter is much better. Eleanor was such a delight.” He sighs, “she really did deserve better than him.”  
  
Loki sits down on Tommy’s other side, well on the other side of Janet who is on Tommy’s other side. “Was?”  
  
“Katherine and Susan’s mother. Died when Katherine was a little girl. She’s still a little girl, I meant a smaller one. _Younger_. She’s a good person. Just stuck with a shitty father. Donates her clothing, time, money. The Manhattanites scorn her for it. Think she thinks she’s too good for—I don’t even know what! Has so much money she can freely donate it without a care. As she stays out of the spotlight I’ve never met her. Met Susan though. She’s always brimming with pride when she speaks of her sister. Sounds as proud of Katherine as I do of Jan—”  
  
“You’re going to a debutante cotillion?!” Janet screeches. And she’s on Tommy’s left so he cringes. “Ooh! Sorry. I...” She clears her throat then does that thing she did earlier, where she cradles her face in her hands.  
  
“Jan loves dances. Used to go to them all the time. Still does, now that I think of it.”  
  
She grabs Tommy by the shoulders (for the second time today), “we need to buy you a suit.”  
  
“Perhaps you should focus on the invite on the closer date?” Loki waves the other invitation and Janet squints at it. “A belated birthday party seems less hectic.”  
  
“True but he won’t need a suit for that.”  
  
“The first thing we need to do...” Vision begins, then flinches when everyone looks up at him. Nevertheless, he powers through, “is make him a doctor’s appointment.”  
  
“Sure.” Janet waves Vision off. “I’ll get on that too.” She squeals while texting, “I can’t wait to show you off!”  
  
“There are two of us.” Loki points out.  
  
“Hm? Yeah, but you’re not as cute as Tommy.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
St. Margaret’s has gender neutral uniforms. Even though they are horrific articles of clothing ripped straight from a Fourth Of July or Olympics Team America catalogue there’s still one uniform for everyone. Technically, there are three uniforms but – you know. Wait. Is it an olympic year? Is it winter or summer? Whatever. Despite the ugliness of the uniforms, the fact that she doesn’t have to wear a skirt daily sold her on the school. That and the whole “Monster High” aura it gave off.  
  
Humans, demons, monsters, aliens, magic folk, who or what ever – everyone together lamenting on how awful high school is.  
  
Kate wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
Anyway, Kate is running late in typical teetering on I’m gonna miss my fucking bus fashion. She’s wearing different parts of all three uniforms, which are most likely on backwards or inside out. Her father outright forbade any of the fifty million drivers at their disposal to give her a ride. A “punishment” for her swapping schools under his nose. That and the fact that he cleared the main kitchen this morning clued her in on the fact that he’s still pissed. Let him throw the world’s biggest tantrum. She doesn’t care. This weekend was the most fun she’s had in a while. Had she not enrolled to St. Margaret’s she would’ve missed out on Kitty shrieking at the dress costs then fainting. Unfortunately, she wasn’t willing to spend that much money on a dress she’ll only wear once (Kate doesn’t blame her, she’s not willing to either) so they plan on trying the dress thing again. At a cheaper store this time.  
  
As she’s running to the bus stop the strap on her second favorite unzipped Hello Kitty backpack unravels spilling the contents onto the sidewalk. “Motherfucker!” She drops to her knees and starts shoveling things into her bag.  
  
A pair of shapely legs steps between her and her history book. “I don’t suppose you kiss your mother with that mouth, do you?”  
  
“Don’t have a mother.” She grumbles then tilts her head slowly looking up at the owner of the aforementioned nice pair of legs. They belong to an equally nice looking curly-haired brunette looking down at her concerned and amused. “I don’t do much kissing either.” She stammers.  
  
“Shame.” The girl crouches down, scooping up some things out of Kate’s reach. “I’m sure a cute girl like you has lots of offers.”  
  
Kate clears her throat, which does little to stop her from blushing. “Not exactly.” Last time her dad caught wind of a girl flirting with her (and Kate reciprocating) she spent two months in a “clinic.” Kate stands accepting the items the girl stuffs into her bag. “Thanks. I’m—”  
  
“Kate.” The brunette flips over the student ID card in her hand. It’s the first official week; lockers, gym lockers, ID photos, schedule conflicts. All that shit was dealt with the first four days so the week starts out fresh. “I’m America.” She drops the card in Kate’s hands.  
  
“Your name is America? Is your birthday the July 4 th too?”  
  
“Unfortunately.”  
  
“Oh shit. Wow.” Kate grins clipping her ID on her sweater vest, “so we’re celebrating America twice over, huh?” She waggles her eyebrows.  
  
The brunette narrows her eyes; it only widens Kate’s grin. “Keep chuckling, Princess. You shoulda used that smile instead of your convict one.”  
  
Kate laughs, “oh man, I cannot take a decent picture.” She shakes her head. “I do this weird grimace thing or have my perpetually confused face on display.”  
  
America holds up a phone, “so I’m guaranteed to get one of your weird grimace things?”  
  
“Don’t take a picture of me!”  
  
“Why not?” America grins, “I need a picture to go with your number.”  
  
“I didn’t give you my number.”  
  
“No, but your ID did.” Kate looks down at her ID, then flips it over where the back _proudly_ displays her home phone number. No wonder they told students not to lose these. Although, it could be quite dangerous having students phone numbers and addresses are on their ID cards.  
  
“Wait, don’t get that one. I’ll give you my cell.” Kate blinks at the bright flash then stares wide-eyed at America who is shaking her phone.  
  
“Thanks.” Kate’s eyebrows shoot up when America turns the phone to her. In the picture of her on the phone she’s just looking down at her phone with no unusual expressions. “Not bad, huh?”  
  
“Could be worse.” Kate agrees. Her phone rings with an unknown number and America gestures to the phone and Kate picks it up. “Seriously?”  
  
“Had to make sure you got my number.” She hangs up the phone and Kate shakes her head fondly, inputting America’s name with the newly entered number.  
  
“Are you always this bold?”  
  
America taps her chin then nods, “yup. Why be anything else? See a cute girl you gotta go for it. The worst that could happen is being rejected, but then you could just move on. Try again. The only times flirting rejections get violent is when it’s against homophobes or closet cases who are usually homophobic anyway.”  
  
“Unless you’re flirting with someone already taken; someone usually with a douchy or controlling partner?” America nods in agreement, “but, in layman’s terms, you’re basically telling me you like to flirt.”  
  
America shrugs, “you’re flirting back...” Kate frowns at her. “So, the ugly-ass uniform? Is that St. Margaret’s? My best friend – _one of my best friends_ – had a uniform not exactly like yours but not all that different.”  
  
“This is...” Kate shrugs, “me waking up late.” America hums, plucking a leaf out of Kate’s hair. “It’s a combination of the three uniforms. But yeah, I got to St. Margaret’s.”  
  
America shakes her head, “what the hell were they thinking when they made those things?”  
  
“The best legal way to make students suffer?” America nods with a chuckle. “What school do you go to?”  
  
“Liberty High. It’s in Jersey City.” Kate blinks at her. “I know, I’m in Manhattan early in the morning. School starts tomorrow so today’s my last day to loaf around for a while.”  
  
“And I thought my school started late.” America shrugs. “Hey, so I know we just met and whatever but...” She rummages through her bag and pulls out an invitation. “Wanna go with me? I mean, go. Not _with me_ , with me. As a guest. Not necessarily my guest. Just a guest in general. I’ll be there just not—” Kate frowns, “I’ll just stop talking.”  
  
“And you called _me_ bold?” Kate’s blush is enough of a response. America eyes the invitation. “A co-what?”  
  
“Cotillion. It’s a fancy dress wearing party. Like a ball? The thing Cinderella had where she met her prince?”  
  
“Ah. Don’t care much about the ‘prince’ part.” America nods slowly then gestures to both of their state of dress, “fancy dresses.”  
  
“More or less.”  
  
“And you want me as your date.”  
  
“Ye— _wait_ , I never said date.”  
  
“Never said otherwise. Plus, you almost did say it.”  
  
Kate massages her forehead. “Okay, sure. You can be my date if that’s what you want.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I don’t want the damn thing at all but having you as my date would make it marginally less shitty.”  
  
“Cool.” America accepts the invitation. “We’ll have to match dresses, right? What color do you want?”  
  
“I’m partial to red and purple.”  
  
“Then let’s do both. You get a purple dress with some red in it and I’ll do the opposite.”  
  
Kate laughs, “damn this is definitely not how I imagined my day would start. The most interesting conversation I had waiting for the bus in the past week was some guy I’m sure was hitting on me leering at my shoes.” America looks down at Kate’s red and white Hello Kitty sneakers, then her red and white Hello Kitty backpack.  
  
“If you could afford custom Vans and host a ball why are you taking the bus?”  
  
“The Vans weren’t that much money in the store. Under fifty bucks.”  
  
“Not the point.”  
  
“I’m not my money?” She grins awkwardly. America raises an eyebrow. Kate sees the bus coming in the distance. Good thing she dropped her shit in front of the bus stop. It’s also a good thing the bus is late. “I’m only rich numerically?”  
  
“Which is the only rich that matters.”  
  
“You wouldn’t understand.”  
  
“Then tell me.”  
  
“I’m not the one hosting this ball. My dad is. I don’t have in interest in that stuff. Even when I liked the pretty dresses and stuff I wasn’t into dances. I like taking the bus and meeting all sorts of new people. I like Hello Kitty.” She hoists her bag for emphasis. “I like...simplicity. I used to be the – not really snobby but helpless rich kid archetype? Couldn’t even get out of bed in the morning without someone untucking my sheets.”  
  
“Damn, Princess. That’s horrible.” Kate nods in agreement. “What happened?”  
  
“That, my friend, is a conversation for another day.” Other people who materialize out of nowhere start getting on the bus.  
  
“Oh no. You’re not getting off the hook so easily.” America says getting on the bus after Kate. “I need to thank who or what is responsible for the transition.”  
  
“Transition?” America nods seriously. “Fine.” Kate smiles at her, “the people responsible are my best friends, you can call them Eli and Clint.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
It takes three days for Loki to be processed into St. Margaret’s system completely. Since the first week of school started Saturday classes, he’s starting today (Monday). Saturday’s school day is a half one; four hours every other Saturday isn’t too terrible. However, Saturday classes are a hell of a lot _earlier_ than their weekday counterparts.  
  
The outside of the building is pulsing with residual magic. A very powerful magic user cast quite the spell not too long about. When and why are the questions forming in his mind. The school has a few magic users in it but none are giving off the same frequency as the pulses. Although, there’s a piece of that lingering magic giving off a faint sense of familiarity oddly reminiscent to his non magic using newly acquired little brother.  
  
He’s been introduced to Tommy’s friends when he showed up Friday for his uniform fitting. Two Katherines, an Eli(jah), and a David. Each more interesting than the last. As he was technically a student, he wasn’t trespassing and as someone not fully in the system he had no classes to attend. Win-win situation. He spent most of Friday wandering the halls barring lunch where he sat with Tommy and his “comrades” learning about the wonders of dipping french fries into milkshakes.  
  
Turns out, not only is Katherine #1 (Kitty) the counterpart Tommy didn’t realize existed she also lives close enough so they can travel to school together. It wouldn’t bother him if she weren’t more like a brother to Tommy than he is. Bad enough he has to vie for Tommy’s attention against Janet, who both hates to lose and loves Tommy more than anything, he cannot afford to add someone else to the list. Janet and Tommy were glued to the television Thursday night and all day Sunday.  
  
When Tommy and Kitty met up on Friday they went on and on about Thursday’s game with the others giving minimum input. The entire bus ride over, they were talking about various Sunday games. When will the madness end?! When they walk into the building they’re still at it!  
  
“—game was shit.”  
  
“What are you talking about? It was a close game.”  
  
“Close in number but that’s about it.”  
  
“Are you still bitter about the Super Bowl?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I be?”  
  
“Hey!” Kitty and Tommy (thankfully) stop with the back and forth as Kate runs up to them. “What’s up?”  
  
“Please tell me you don’t have an American Football Team?” Loki pleads. He can’t deal with another one.  
  
“The Giants.” Loki facepalms. “How was yesterday’s game? Huh?”  
  
“Better than last year.” Kitty and Tommy chorus.  
  
She glares at them. “Right. I told myself we’d be in business if we didn’t start 0-1.”  
  
Tommy laughs, “damn dude. I’m honestly with you though.”  
  
“Why’s your hair all disheveled?” Kitty asks plucking a leaf out of Kate’s hair.  
  
“All my books flew outta my bag. A pretty— _nice_ stranger helped me.” Kitty gives her a knowing look she ignores. “Gave her an invitation. Speaking of which, I forgot to give you one.”  
  
Loki accepts the invitation she hands him. “Thanks. You’re giving these to everyone, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yeah right. I got five hundred and including you, I handed out twelve.” Tommy whistles. “Five hundred people is not a debutante ball, it’s a small wedding.”  
  
“That’s not a _small_ wedding.” Kitty says shaking her head. “One hundred, maybe. Five hundred is a big wedding.”  
  
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t plan on getting married.” Tommy holds out his hand for a fist bump. Kate obliges.  
  
“Never?” Kate shakes her head. “I’d love to have a ceremony.”  
  
“Would you settle for seeing one? You can be my date to my sister’s wedding.” Kitty pumps her fist in the air. “Assuming she and her ‘betrothed’ stop arguing.” Kate rolls her eyes.  
  
“Ah. Straight people, am I right?” Both Tommy and Loki nod in agreement and Kate laughs. “But seriously, if they get married I’d love to go with you.” She squeals. “I wonder if anyone else I know plans on marrying. Especially with same-sex marriage legal in the US.”  
  
“Wait a sec.” Kate points at Tommy, “I know about these two but what about you?”  
  
“What about me what? _My_ sexuality? I’m—”  
  
“Exclusively into David.” Kitty finishes batting her eyelashes at him.  
  
“I won’t dignify that with a response.”  
  
“Because you don’t have one?” Kate asks. Tommy just gives her a blank stare. “David’s a catch, if you’re into guys.” She pauses, “which I totally am! You don’t grow up in a strictly homophobic, heterosexist, heteronormative household and without getting dicks shoved into your face.”  
  
Loki raises an eyebrow. “I sincerely hope you meant that figuratively.” Kate sends him a withering glare.  
  
“If your dad is a homophobe will it be alright if I go as your date to your sister’s wedding? I’ve been the direct source of anger for mobs of people before, it’s not a great feeling. It’s definitely not a feeling I wish to get a reprise of.”  
  
Kate winces. “Sorry about that, but it should be fine. Doesn’t matter who I bring, my family will disapprove. Might as well show you a wedding up close. In any event, you’re not the first girl I’ve asked out.”  
  
“Ooh how we love to defy our parents.” Loki says fondly. The girls look to Tommy who shrugs. “But I’m curious. Given your household, how did you manage to ask girls out?”  
  
“It wasn’t easy. I was about seven and I asked our neighbor, Karolina, to be my date to one of my parents functions. I still remember hearing my mother chide me, telling me how wrong it was. Never asked out a girl romantically though...” She pauses, “until this morning.” Three sets of eyebrows raise.  
  
After a brief period of silence Tommy asks: “Was she cute?” Loki elbows Tommy then sends him an indecipherable look.  
  
“Yes? Does it matter?”  
  
“No. I was just curious.” Loki pinches the bridge of his nose.  
  
“What happened?” Kitty squeals, excitedly.  
  
Kate scratches her head, “I don’t even know if it qualifies as romantic. I tripped – wait, I didn’t trip today.” She frowns, “my shit fell out of my bag and like I said this stranger helped me out. Only we were flirting, like, a lot. I even gave her a bit of my backstory. Long story short I, uh, invited her as my date to the ball.”  
  
Kitty bounces around happily and Tommy whistles. “You don’t beat around the bush.” He sighs then Loki facepalms.  
  
“I was swept up in the pace of things!” Tommy gives her a thumbs up. Kitty clasps her hands together, beaming. “The girl was super forward. Like you.”  
  
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”  
  
“It’s both.” Kitty replies.  
  
“This isn’t an intervention, is it? You’re having a sexuality crisis of some sort?”  
  
“No. I—” Kate frowns, “I know what I like.” The three of them stare at her. “You seriously want me to out myself in the hallway?”  
  
“Why are you getting outed?” Eli asks, approaching them. “That didn’t work so well for you last time.”  
  
“Hardy, fucking har har.”  
  
“That demands an explanation.” Loki says.  
  
“What demands an explanation is David’s absence. He was just walking with me.” Kate elbows Tommy who brushes it off. Eli glances at Tommy then shakes his head, “nope. We’re not getting into that.” Frowning, Tommy folds his arms over his chest.  
  
“You live near David?” Kitty asks.  
  
“No. I don’t live near none of you. I’m within walking distance of the school. My great-grandpa helped make this place so it’s practically a Bradley tradition to attend.”  
  
“So, sleepovers at your place?” Loki asks hopefully.  
  
“Sure. My mom’s waiting for my first sleepover. Gramps will regale you guys of war stories. True, terrifying war stories.”  
  
“Aren’t you and Kate like this?” Loki entwines his pointer and middle fingers.  
  
“Never slept over.” Kate says. “The three h’s of my childhood. ‘It is improper for a young lady to sleep over at a gentleman’s place whether the matriarch is in attendance or not.’ I only asked once, when I was six, and ever since he sends his goons on me if I’m out past nine.” She sighs, “name the time and date, I’ll be there.”  
  
“Deal.” The two of them do this complicated, painful looking handshake.  
  
“I’m not even gonna ask what that was.” Kitty says. The bell rings. “See you guys at lunch or whatever class I meet you guys in~”  
  
Everyone says their goodbyes. Tommy and Kate head to music appreciation. “You’re looking at me like you wanna ask me something.”  
  
“I do.” She fidgets in her seat, “when did you realize you weren’t straight?”  
  
“Never thought much about it.” He shrugs, “wasn’t inclined to participate in weekly wanking sessions with the other guys in juvie when they sneaked in nude magazines.”  
  
“Eww.”  
  
“Yeah, so they thought I was gay but since I didn’t get hard regardless of what gender I looked at they considered me a freak.”  
  
“If you don’t get off on either what the hell are you?”  
  
“Nothing? Everything? I don’t know? Should it matter?”  
  
“I guess not.” Kate shrugs, “maybe magazines don’t do it for you? They don’t do it for me either.” She lets out a self-depreciating laugh. “I guess liking gay porn should’ve tipped me off, huh?”  
  
“Not really. The porn you watch and get off to has nothing to do with your sexuality.”  
  
“What do you prefer?”  
  
Tommy lolls his head, “I don’t watch porn.”  
  
Kate blinks at him but before she opens her mouth she hears. “Okay.” They look up at David. “All I heard was porn, but I’m conflicted on whether I wanna hear the rest of it.”  
  
“Tommy doesn’t watch porn.”  
  
David blinks at her. “Is that bad?”  
  
“Is it—? Of course, it’s bad! What fifteen-year-old doesn’t watch porn?!” David points at Tommy. “He’s just strange. Even Kitty watches porn and she’s the aciest ace to ever ace.”  
  
“Let me get this straight, you’re pissed at Tommy for not watching pornography? I’m honestly not sure how to react to this.”  
  
“There is absolutely nothing _straight_ here.” Tommy snorts, “I was so waiting to use that. Oh and _everyone_ watches porn.”  
  
“That isn’t necessarily true.”  
  
“Yeah it is. Everyone I know watches porn.”  
  
David looks at Tommy, grins, then looks to Kate. The black-haired teen almost misses the scandalized look on Tommy’s face. Almost. “Maybe he prefers _reading_ porn.”  
  
“Reading?”  
  
Tommy looks up at David but addresses Kate. “Did you know David accidentally yet casually came out to me when we first met?”  
  
Kate gapes at David, turns to Tommy who nods in confirmation, then looks back at David who narrows his eyes at Tommy’s grinning face. “Not my finest moment.” He mutters then takes his seat next to her. “In my defense, however, his dumb face distracted me.”  
  
“Called my dumb face cute too.”  
  
“You called me cute first.”  
  
“Shut up!” They both stare at her. “I’m so not dealing with you two now. As distracting as Tommy’s dumb face truly is, nothing is worse than me talking about liking girls in front of my openly homophobic neighbor who moved the next day.” She clears her throat, “anyways, do you prefer boys or girls?”  
  
Kate watches David bite his lip and not even bother moving his head. “I like both equally.”  
  
“Uh-huh. I’m gonna spare you by not calling bullshit.”  
  
“You kinda just did call bullshit.”  
  
She glares at Tommy before turning back to David. Kate had to sit in the middle to avoid the bullshit that went down on Friday and Saturday. Although looking back and forth is probably not good for her neck. “Anyway, I hope America is more than a pretty face. There is nothing worse than attractive people with nothing other than looks to offer.”  
  
“I feel like that was directed at _me_ somehow...”  
  
“America? Who’s that?”  
  
“Kate’s crush. What did you think this was about? You’re a genius, David, try to keep up.” She turns to Tommy then back to David.  
  
“Huh. Is she cute?”  
  
“Are you people really that shallow?”  
  
“You people?” Kate jerks a thumb at Tommy. “I’m not shallow. I’m curious. Eli’s your best friend. Your standards are ridiculously high.”  
  
“I-I don’t have high standards. My standards are normal.” At David’s raised eyebrow, Kate frowns, “do you wanna hear about America or not?” David mimes zipping his mouth shut. “On my way to school I met a really cute girl – fucking beautiful – like an international model or something because, no offense to this country or whatever, but the prettiest people are the ones that come from different countries.” David makes a seesawing motion. “Anyway. Beautiful girl. Liberty High School. Knows someone here. Her best friend. Aw, crap! I forgot to ask who!” She grumbles something then puts her head down.  
  
“Isn’t this like that meet-cute thing you told me about?”  
  
Kate’s head lifts. “I just had a meet-cute. No wonder it felt surreal!”  
  
“Did you get her number?”  
  
“Not only that she asked her out to the ball.”  
  
“I forgot I did that!” She moans cradling her head.  
  
David pats her on the back, “chin up, Buttercup. People have the tendency to be at their flakiest near someone they really like.” Kate lifts her head and raises both eyebrows at him. “W-What?”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Loki stares at Kate’s schedule: music appreciation, English-1 (both with David and Tommy), Russian-1, alien understanding, biology (with him), world history, lunch, intro to business, physical education-A (with all of them), computer technology, algebra-1 (again, with Tommy). “Why did you take Russian as your language class?”  
  
“Why’d you take Latin?” She retorts. “Isn’t that a dead language? Are they allowed to still teach it?” Loki shrugs, handing the schedule back. “I wanted a language I could swear in and only a few people would understand me.”  
  
“Same here.” The Russian-1 and Latin-1 classes were right next to each other. In fact, all the freshmen foreign language classes were in the same corner of the hallway. Loki can see all the people walking into the French-1 classroom at the end of the hall. “Tommy took German.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask.”  
  
“Kitty too, with the German.” They peer into the classroom. “For a dead language, it’s a surprisingly lively classroom.” Kate laughs at her joke then pats him on the back, “see you in biology.”  
  
“See you after class.” Kate gives him the two-fingered salute. “Ah! Wait.” She looks over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to have David’s schedule, would you? I only know his first two classes.”  
  
She fully turns to him, suspiciously. Narrowing her eyes, she asks: “What do you need it for?”  
  
“What do you think? I need to interrogate him. His intentions with my little brother? Things of that nature.”  
  
Kate slow blinks at him. “You wanna give David the shovel talk?” Despite the fact that she asks in the driest tone Loki’s ever heard anyone use, he nods all the same. “Hate to break it to ya, bud, their attraction is a two-way street. Hell, David practically told me he likes Tommy earlier. I have two classes with them back to back. It’s the cutest, most infuriating thing ever. I wanna shove their heads together and make ‘em kiss.”  
  
Loki clutches his chest dramatically. “He can’t just do those _things_ with Tommy.”  
  
“ _Things_? Oh please. There’s no virtue to protect. You two were in juvie. The dodo birds gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes is hardly the worst thing you’ve encountered. Tommy told me about ‘circle jerks.’” Loki cringes. “Yeah. Stashing porn mags, literal dick measuring, the—my God he has no filter.” She shakes her head then pats him on the back again. “I don’t know David’s full schedule. Just the classes I have with him. You could always ask Tommy?” He glares at her. “Thought so. Wish you luck all the same.”  
  
Loki shuffles into his classroom. Do so many people seriously want to learn Latin or is there a schedule mix up? He takes an empty seat in the first row between a ridiculously tall, buff, green-skinned, blond guy and a small, pale, black-haired girl. In the hall he sees Kitty waving so he waves back. Unless she’s waving at someone else but she smiles then goes into her class – across the hall.  
  
Loki sneaks a glance at the girl to his left. Magic users have this habit of involuntarily pulling other magic users in. The girl turns to him fully. “You know Kate Bishop?”  
  
“I do...?”  
  
She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, “Leah.”  
  
He hesitantly shakes her hand. “Loki. You wanna be introduced to Kate?”  
  
She sighs wistfully, “who wouldn’t? She’s beautiful.” She sighs once more. “How will you introduce me?”  
  
“Uh, when I see her after this class?”  
  
“Thank you.” She beams at him.  
  
Meanwhile, in the classroom next door, Kate’s rocking back and forth in her chair. The desk to her right rattles as someone sits in the attached seat putting their purple bag on the desk. Kate slowly looks up the black cast on the left arm then the rumpled uniform sleeve then a purple hearing aid and some scruffy blond hair. She does a double take to make sure she’s seeing correctly. “ _Clint_?”  
  
He grins taking his sunglasses off (in CSI Miami fashion). “Katie.”  
  
She’d comment about the cheesiness of it all, and swear she’s hearing the CSI Miami music, if it weren’t for the black eye he’s sporting. No, scratch that. He has _two_ black eyes – one he can barely open, complimented by the fading bruises and what she’s sure is dried blood surrounding the rest of his face. “ _What happened to your face?_ _!_ ”  
  
“Hockey incident.”  
  
She grabs his chin forcibly turning his head from side to side. “Bullshit, Barton. As clumsy as you are you couldn’t’ve done this yourself.”  
  
“Never said it was self-inflicted, Katie. Got hit with a hockey stick, among other things. My old man decided to show CPS what he really thought of ‘em.”  
  
“CP—child protective services? You mean to tell me _he hit you in front of them_?”  
  
“You sound surprised.” She winces and lets go. “Legs don’t work but his fists still do. Not all bad, right? Life’s good. I’m not dead and I got a pretty sweet deal out of it.” He gestures to his uniform. “Moved to New York. Got a temporary foster dad...”  
  
“Except your face looks like it got spit out of a meat grinder.” He puts his (purple) sunglasses back on and smirks – as much as he’s able to with a split lip. “Jesus, Barton, I didn’t think skin could get so _blue_.” A beat. “Also, _temporary_ foster dad?”  
  
“My skin’s probably blue due to my Italian roots—” Kate flicks him on his bandaged forehead. “ _Fine_. My guy used to be a social worker but he’s a teacher here now.” The blond shrugs, “I say it’s a temp thing because look at me, Katie. Pinnacle of damaged goods? Health ‘issues’ coming out the wazoo? Who’d willingly adopt me for any reason other than a free check or a good Samartian is trying to do right religiously? I’ve been the system’s problem since I was two, I’ll be in a group home before the month’s done.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m too old for an orphanage or adoption agency.” He answers the unsaid question Kate’s eyes are asking.  
  
“I’ve bitched about my dad beating on other guys and your dad’s been beating on you.” She shakes her head, “everyone thinks their life is shitty but your life is all kinds of fucked up.”  
  
“Special breed.” He nods. “But, if my dad hadn’t been eager to get rid of me we never would’ve met at archery camp.”  
  
Kate rolls her eyes at him. “All things considered, it’s good to see you. _Don’t_ make an eye joke.” He salutes her. When the door opens the room falls silent; the same terrified silence that comes from being in Fury’s classroom. A redhead walks into the classroom and the only sound heard is the clacking of her heels. Kate can’t even hear anyone breathing. This might be worse than Fury. For the past four days they had a substitute teacher explaining in a horrifically cartoonish Russian accent they’re teacher would arrive Monday. _Today_ is Monday.  
  
The woman turns around and her blue-green eyes scan the room. “с этого момента будет без английского в этой комнате.” As the students look among one another with confusion, she smirks.  
  
The intercom crackles to life. _“прошу прощения, госпожа. Романова.”_ The class collectively looks up in horror. Even the _intercom_ is speaking Russian?!  
  
“да?”  
  
_“доктор. фурия просьбой Клинт Бартон?”_  
  
The redhead’s eyebrows furrow. “секундочку.” She clears her throat. “Clint Barton?” Clint lazily raises his left hand. Kate wondered why he rose the hand with the cast until she saw his right arm is in a sling. The redhead nods then jerks her thumb at the door. “офис..” The blond nods (whether he understands her or not remains to be seen), and gathers up his stuff accepting the hall pass from the redhead. He gives Kate a wave as he walks out the classroom. Frowning, Kate hastily flips through her Russian text book, scans the index, reads the page she needs, then raises her hand. “да?”  
  
“ванная комната?” She’s sure the pronunciation is choppy but the redhead looks impressed and nods. Kate grins then takes the bathroom pass thanking the woman with a nod then casually walks out the classroom, waits until she’s out of the teacher’s sight then darts down the hall. “Clint!”  
  
He stops walking then she catches up to him. “What are you doing here?” She flashes the bathroom pass. “Ah. Pretty clever.”  
  
The two of them walk into the office where Dr. Fury is leaning against the counter talking to the flustered receptionist. “Ah! There he is.”  
  
Kate looks between them then a light switch goes off in her head. “No.” She gasps.  
  
“Ms. Bishop, shouldn’t you be in class?”  
  
She can’t help looking between them once more. “You adopted Clint?!” The chuckle that escapes her biology teacher is frightening.  
  
“Indeed I did.” He takes out his cellphone then fires off a text faster than any of Kate’s text savvy peers. “Now, Ms. Romanova knows you’re with me and to keep the stuff you left behind safe.” He jerks his head behind him and they follow him. “I’ll admit. I didn’t think to ask if he knew anyone.” Clint’s looking down at the floor as they walk and it’s honestly the quietest she’s ever seen him. She’s seen him with the default goofy expression, beat up, pissed off, super happy, but never resigned. It’s a strange look on him and immediately identifies it as a look she doesn’t like. “How did you two meet?”  
  
“Archery camp in Iowa. Mom and dad had business to attend to. Owned a farm and everything. There was a mix up and I got sent to archery camp instead of ‘princess camp.’” Fury raises a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s true. I went there for four years straight and ran into this knucklehead every year. Haven’t been since my mom died but we kept in touch.”  
  
He nods. “You okay, Clint?” The blond nods timidly. Kate frowns and Fury nods again. “Bishop, a word?” Kate gulps but follows him. They walk into another room and Fury closes the door. “I’m assuming you’re frowning because of Clint? Not just his recent _disagreement_ with his father.”  
  
“How does that ja— _erk_ keep getting near him?”  
  
“Understaffing. Overcrowded youth homes. Shitty health care. Terrible employees. A bitter man with a lot of power. Too many variables to know for certain. I kept a look out for him. Always bright and cheery despite the bruises. He’s a shell of that now. Thought if we moved him out of his small town and start over he’d—” He trails off with a shrug. Great, now even Fury’s resigned. It’s like a virus.  
  
“Clint thinks you’re gonna get rid of him after a while. Told me himself.” Fury looks at her in surprise. “He’s never been adopted before. Never even thought of being adopted. Played system roulette for thirteen years straight. Keeps up the cheerful act to avoid being another problem. Clint’s pretty much lost all faith in humanity. Lost faith in himself; assuming he ever had any.”  
  
Fury nods. “Thank you, Kate.” She smiles sadly. “I don’t think he’s lost faith in you, though.” She blinks at him. “On the way over here he talked about a friend he made several years back. Didn’t realize it was you until just now.”  
  
“Liking someone else makes you hate yourself less.” She looks at Clint through the door. “I’ll learned that from experience.” She turns back to Fury. “I’ll give you a free piece of advice. Clint’s always been more visual than verbal. Guess his hearing had something to do with it.” She waves it off, “whatever. He’ll never believe you if you tell him you won’t get rid of him. Even if you do it repeatedly.”  
  
“Figured that.” This must be why Fury wasn’t in biology on Saturday. The class didn’t even bother acting up for the substitute. That is how much of an impression the man made, _in three days_. Just being in his classroom demanded respect. “Ironically, I’ve always been more visual than verbal myself. Even when I had both eyes.” Kate stares at him with a blank expression. “It was a joke, Kate.”  
  
“I-I didn’t wanna guess wrong.”  
  
Fury chuckles. “You’re saying he’s acting this way because he fears I’ll get rid of him?” Kate nods. “If he doesn’t get attached it’ll hurt less to leave. I’ve been through the same thing. Bring Barton in here.” He called him _Barton_ , uh-oh.  
  
Kate nods then walks out of the room grabbing Clint by the back of his collar. “I don’t know what shit you got into your head now Barton but—” She sighs as he stares blankly at the floor. “You actually like Fury, don’t you?”  
  
He looks up at her. “He’s kinda the only person who ever treated me like I mattered, so yeah I like ‘em, but being his kid isn’t the same as being his case.”  
  
“You think he was only nice to you because you were a case?”  
  
“No. I know he was nice to me because he’s the only decent human being I’ve ever met before you came along. Kids need more things. Food, constantly, and clothing. I don’t know anything so I’ll need remedial classes.”  
  
She grips him by the front of his collar. “If your face weren’t already beat up I’d slap you for how idiotic you sound. I was a pampered little brat before I met you. You changed my life. You showed me pizza, Barton.”  
  
“Staple in poor people food.”  
  
“You made me fend for myself. Taught me archery. Goddammit, you made me trust you! Get your shit together!” She doesn’t realize she’s crying until someone puts a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Fury. His presence is weirdly comforting – all things considered.  
  
Kate slowly lets go of Clint’s collar but he grabs her hands with his left one. “I’m gonna mess it up.” His voice is so small, so broken. It just makes more tears fall. There are unshed tears in his eyes.  
  
“You won’t.” He shakes his head then drops her hands. “Dammit, Clint, look at me.” He begrudgingly does. “Even if you fu—dge...” She cracks an eye at Fury who raises an amused eyebrow, “it up, I’m here. Not just me. You remember, Eli right? My rock? You never met him but you spoke to him before.” Clint nods. “And I made friends here. Actual, who cares about cash, friends. I’m having a debutante ball.”  
  
“With the tacky dresses?”  
  
“Yes.” Clint cracks a smile. “How are you supposed to wear a purple suit to compliment my purple dress if you go back to Iowa?” She gives Clint a sly grin, “and I have a secret I wanna share with you~”  
  
“A secret?”  
  
“Nope. Not until you get out of this funk. I want my Clint back.”  
  
Fury leans down, “if you could also lower the self-destructive tendencies, that would be great.” He whispers.  
  
“Right.” She nods at him. “That too.” She turns back to Clint. “We gotta plan our joint sweet sixteen.”  
  
“We just turned fifteen three months ago.”  
  
“Never too early to plan.” He looks up at Fury nodding in agreement. “Your dad’s the most badass teacher in the school. You seriously wanna give that up?”  
  
“The only dad I ever had hated me.”  
  
“We know your dad’s a prick. Why are we circling back to that?”  
  
“I can’t help feeling I made it worse.” Kate sighs then hugs him muttering something fondly. The bell rings.  
  
“I’ll give you two a moment but I expect to see you in biology, Ms. Bishop.”  
  
“And I’m back to Ms. Bishop.” She sighs. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“And Clint?” He blinks at Fury. “You’re gonna retake those placement tests and actually act like you give a damn this time.” Clint continues to stare at him. “We clear?”  
  
He nods, “yeah, but in the spirit of full disclosure I did try my hardest with English. I’m just not good at it.”  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
“ _Fury has a kid!?_ ”  
  
“ _Shh_!” Kate hisses. Students are walking by but really don’t pay them heed. She texted everyone and asked them to meet her by her locker before heading to the cafeteria. “Yes. He’s my other best friend.” Kate looks at Eli then tilts her head noticing one extra person in the group at the moment. “Who the hell are you?”  
  
Beside the newcomer, Loki facepalms. “I’m Leah.” She bows. “Pleased to meet you.”  
  
“Uh...” Still facepalming, Loki shakes his head. “Back at you.”  
  
“Tell us about Fury’s kid!” Kitty says excitedly. Beside her, Sharon nods.  
  
“His name is Clint Barton.” Eli replies, everyone turns to him. “He’s a tragic mess of a human being but a likable one. Never met him in person with the state and timezone differences but we Skype’d once. Twice. And we e-mail each other weekly.” Eli frowns. “Should knew something was up when he didn’t send me anything.”  
  
“E-mail? Did we time travel back to the early 2000s?” Kate folds her arms over her chest, “a phone call wouldn’t suffice?”  
  
“You two talk. We exchange e-mails. Don’t knock our thing, I don’t knock yours.”  
  
“Quick question.” Kate and Eli look at Tommy. “Tall, blond, banged up everything, two broken arms?”  
  
Kate whips around spotting Clint heading toward them. “Why do you keep doing that?” She hisses. He shrugs in reply. “Hey!” She puts an arm around his left shoulder. “Meet the gang.” She points as she speaks. “Kitty, Sharon, David, Tommy, Loki, Leah, Jubilee. Of course you remember—”  
  
“Eli!” Eli envelops him in a one-armed hug.  
  
“Good to finally see you in person, man.”  
  
“Why’re you all jacked up?” Everyone slowly turns to Tommy. “I don’t like to tiptoe around shit.”  
  
The blond grins and points, “I like him.”  
  
Kate frowns. “Of course you do, he’s you with white hair.”  
  
“Is that natural?” Tommy nods proudly. “Badass. Oh, the question. My drunk, abusive dad beat the shit outta me. A going away present really.” Everyone, sans Tommy, pales.  
  
“Dude...” Tommy sighs. “Been there.” Everyone turns to him again, more than just slightly horrified this time. “Not _my dad_ but adults ‘looking out for you’ trying to get away with shit? Hitting you a couple times because it’s well within their profession to ‘discipline’ you? I’ve been _there_.”  
  
“I think both of your lives are equally terrible.” Kate says.  
  
“No wait.” Jubilee says. “That depends.” She eyes Clint critically. “Ever been to juvie?”  
  
“Right. Forgot about you too.” Jubilee beams at her. When their teacher made them choose partners in music appreciation and Kate grabbed David because she seriously doubted any work would get done if she and Tommy partnered up. Putting Tommy and David together would result in her working with a stranger so that was also out. Plus, they’re likely to simply stare at each other goofily for the entire class period. With her working with David, Tommy teamed up with the black-haired girl. Rather the black-haired teen offered and Tommy accepted. Ultimately, it was horrible because they’re two peas in a pod. The situation was a lose-lose- _lose_.  
  
Clint shrugs with his left shoulder. “Twice. Why?”  
  
“Tommy wins.” Jubilee says, proudly.  
  
Clint looks _amazed_. “How many times?”  
  
“Six, officially, but off the record even I lost count.”  
  
“I’ve been to three different detention centers.” Jubilee adds, “and I was in the system too.”  
  
“I don’t recall your fucked up lives being a competition.” Kate chides. The three of them nod seriously at her. Eli elbows her with a smile. “Yeah, yeah.” She smiles back. “I’m canceling my belated birthday party. Sorry to those of you who RSVP’d.”  
  
“What happened?” Kitty asks.  
  
“Are you making it a welcoming party for your friend?” Leah asks.  
  
“No, although that is a good idea. I’m party-free until November. My birthday was three months ago. Just one more disappointment to my father. He’s got fifteen years worth already.”  
  
“Birthday, birthday...” Kitty frowns then snaps her fingers, “they mentioned it in homeroom. Tommy’s birthday is Saturday.”  
  
For the third time in five minutes everyone turns to Tommy. “It is. So what?”  
  
“‘So what?’” Sharon echoes in disbelief.  
  
“My belated birthday party would’ve been a belated party for you too. It was Sunday.” Kate muses. “You weren’t gonna mention it? At all?”  
  
“Nope.” Everyone continues to stare. “I despise birthday parties. Why make a big deal out of one I don’t want?”  
  
“You probably hate parties because you never had a good one.” David guesses.  
  
Tommy’s right eye twitches as he looks at David who gives a casual shrug then he looks among the group, scowling. “I swear if any of you throw me a party—”  
  
“What if we get you gifts instead?” Clint suggests.  
  
“Hold up!” Jubilee interrupts, “you’re _fourteen_?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You’re the youngest.” Eli says. Tommy furrows his eyebrows. “A September birthday and you’re not fifteen yet?”  
  
“Eli, your birthday was last month.”  
  
“Still not the youngest.” Kate rolls her eyes.  
  
“Your birthday is two days before Talk Like A Pirate Day.” Now everyone turns to Clint. “It’s the 17 th and TLAP Day is September 19th. Look at a calendar if you don’t believe me.”  
  
“We need to buy Tommy gifts!” Kitty gushes.  
  
“You really don’t.”  
  
“Yeah. We really do.” She argues. The others nod in agreement.  
  
“You wanna buy me gifts? Okay. Price range is under ten bucks.” Tommy folds his arms over his chest. As everyone simultaneously blurts out protests he holds up a hand. “I’m serious. Under ten bucks or nothing at all.”  
  
“We’re willingly offering to buy you gifts and you’re giving us _a price range_?” Kitty asks, appalled.  
  
“Take it or leave it, not that I don’t appreciate the enthusiasm but it’s misplaced.” Kitty glares at him.  
  
“The price thing is actually not a bad idea because ten bucks is all I have.” Clint takes a bill out of his wallet and hands it to Tommy. “Oops. It’s a five. Happy early birthday, dude.”  
  
“Thanks, Clint. See, he gets it.”  
  
“Am I, your brother, excluded from the price range?” Tommy deliberately looks him up and down slowly then shakes his head. “Damn. Alright, fine. Oh! Make it fifteen bucks?” Tommy narrows his eyes. “I saw something for twelve dollars you might like.”  
  
Everyone looks at Loki, then Tommy, then Loki again. “Fine.” Tommy grits out. “Fifteen dollars and not a penny over.” The group cheers.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
On Wednesday, Loki and Tommy receive an ominous text from Janet about not coming home. This is after she asked for their keys with a slightly manic smile on her face. Tommy’s only known her for two days more than him but Loki believes him when he said she has an expression twice as mischievous.  
  
The school day ends and Janet pulls up in a car. It’s not her car because it’s not the shiny blue Porsche (the 2017 Porsche 918 Spyder according to Tommy). It’s a black, not as shiny Rolls-Royce ~~no doubt belonging to Vernon~~. Loki immediately climbs into the passenger’s seat and Tommy takes the back seat. “Where are we going?” Loki asks.  
  
“Home.” He looks back at Tommy who shrugs while he puts on his seatbelt. “By the way...” She looks at Tommy through the rearview mirror. “Were you planing on telling me your birthday was this weekend?”  
  
“No?”  
  
She frowns. “I figured.” There’s a twenty minute drive of silence “home.” Loki suspects it should’ve taken longer but Janet often uses speed limits as _suggestions_ and not law.  
  
When they get out of the car, Janet ushers them inside an apartment building. As they reach the third floor, via stairs, Janet walks them to the apartment at the end of the hall. She wordlessly inserts the keys then opens the door.  
  
Loki steps inside first. After taking his shoes off, he looks around. “I don’t understand. Did we move here?”  
  
“Yup.” Janet closes the door behind her. “I speak from experience, there’s nothing good about living in Manhattan’s Upper West Side. The glitterati, all those tiny high-priced boutiques, the obsessive-addictiveness, never anything good to eat, lack of street vendors? No, no, no. I won’t allow you two to grow up in that lifestyle. It’s toxic.” She shows them around. “This place has more bathrooms then bedrooms. Something your dad is unusually obsessed with. Not to mention both of you have a room to yourself.” They turn to her and she nods. “A four bedroom, five and a half bathroom apartment.”  
  
“Where is this?” Loki asks.  
  
“SoHo? TriBeCa?” She shrugs, “I forgot which. Still a forty minute bus ride to school, but as an added bonus we can walk to Chinatown.”  
  
“You moved us to Lower Manhattan?” Loki asks. “In, somehow, a bigger and less expensive apartment than we had last week?”  
  
“Vision doesn’t know how to shop. My lease was up in my Hoboken apartment so I decided to move.”  
  
“You’re gonna live with us too?” Tommy asks. “Sweet.”  
  
“Damn right it’s sweet. How else am I supposed to get to know you two?” She tuts. “Go, check out your rooms. Since you’re inclined to have an attached bathroom yours is in the corner, Tommy.” He grins then heads to his room. Loki follows him until he reaches the bedroom attached to Tommy’s through the bathroom they’re probably not gonna share. Doesn’t matter, though. There’s a bathroom literally two steps away from his bedroom.  
  
The boys inspect their rooms, all of their boxes are neatly stacked and the only thing not in a box are their beds. “When did you have time to do this?” Tommy asks coming out of his room.  
  
“Nine hours is a lot of time.” Janet waves them off. “Go! Unpack your shit. Fix your rooms to your heart’s desires!” Not needing to be told twice, they head back into their rooms.  
  
Thanks to Loki’s magic (literally), by the time Saturday rolls around their rooms are nearly finished. Loki’s putting the finishing touches on his walls – black, to symbolize (his) sophistication and elegance – when he sees Tommy, out the corner of his eye, shrugging on a grey hoodie. He was adamant about the no party request, much to Janet’s dismay, and is one of the rare individuals who dislikes cake. As it’s synonymous with parties, Loki kinda understands why.  
  
They woke him up this morning with fifteen candles sticking out of a meatball sub.  
  
“Where are you going?” Tommy pauses zipping up his hoodie to look at him.  
  
“David called, said he has something for me. I told Jan I’m going out so I’ll see you when I get back.” Loki nods watching him go. Yesterday, everyone – excluding David (and himself but that’s only because they live together) – gave Tommy his under fifteen dollar birthday presents. Presents still neatly stacked on his desk. Everyone complained about the unfairness of the price range but still looked happy to give him something. Loki understands the hesitancy of accepting presents from others, Tommy’s never received a gift before, let alone a birthday gift. Neither has he before living here. However, he considers himself easier to please than Tommy and they have three months to get him something; he made sure to let them know.  
  
Still. Why didn’t David give him something yesterday like the others? The only class Loki has with him, other than gym – the class they all have together, is alien understanding and there are way too many kids in that class for them to have a private conversation.  
  
From an objective standpoint, and he needs to be as unbiased as possible, David _is_ attractive. Distractingly so. It’s kinda irritating. No one can find fault in another for hovering next to a potent source of biomagnetism. Loki caught himself multiple times unwittingly being charmed by David, but this isn’t solely about David. Keyword there is _solely_. Although one can say it’s _mostly_ about David, it’s about all their friends. All their instinctively likable, charismatic friends. Loki may live with Tommy but his brother’s limited scope of focus jumps from friend to friend ~~(to~~ ~~ _David_~~ ~~)~~ before coming back to him. It’s a lost fucking cause.  
  
But, it is Tommy’s birthday (plus he already left). Loki can gloat about spending more time with Tommy than anyone else at a later date.  
  
✪ ✪ ✪  
  
Nervous does not begin to describe his current feeling. His parents practically kicked him out the house, told him to do something other than studying. They then proceeded to threaten to call every library and bookstore in a twenty mile radius to make sure he wasn’t studying. He’s trying to figure out why his first instinct was to call Tommy. It couldn’t be his birthday. He hadn’t realized that was today until _after_ he hung up. David can admit he has a slight, barely noticeable, hardly worth mentioning crush on Tommy. A minuscule, infinitesimal infatuation. No reason to dwell over it.  
  
They’ve only known each other for ten days yet something is bubbling between them. Something all-consuming; carnal. No use in denying it. They’re not subtle. The anticipation makes him break out in goosebumps. He can’t help wanting to see how it plays out. “Hey.” Tommy walks up to him, hands in his hoodie pockets.  
  
“Hey, happy birthday.” Tommy shrugs his thanks. “I found a loophole in your gift budget.”  
  
“Did you now?”  
  
David nods. “Yep. I found a few places that give you free stuff on your birthday.” Tommy blinks at him. “Most of the places I signed you up for but there are others where all you need is to show ID.”  
  
Tommy stares at him for about ten seconds more before breaking into a smile. A very cute smile David’s never seen before and wants to see more of. “You sneaky fucker.” He laughs.  
  
David smiles giving a one-shoulder shrug, “ever hear of Ruby Tuesday? I found one in Midtown.”  
  
“We’re taking a bus to Midtown, for a free meal? What about you?”  
  
“What about me what?”  
  
“Are you getting something free too?”  
  
“No. I gotta pay for my food. You’re the one with the birthday coupons.”  
  
“As in plural?”  
  
“I told you I found a few places.”  
  
“I refuse to eat nothing but free food and watch you pay for your meals.”  
  
It’s David’s turn to blink. “That’s sweet of you.” He frowns. “Tell you what. I’ll buy one thing and, if you want, we can split your birthday stuff.”  
  
“Just one thing?”  
  
“Yes. Why are you so difficult?”  
  
“You’re spending money unnecessarily? Did you expect me to be thrilled about that?”  
  
“Not _thrilled_. I didn’t even...” He shakes his head, “whatever. I never intended on buying a meal in every place we hit up today. I don’t need to eat that much.”  
  
“You should’ve led with that.” Tommy puts an arm around him then they start walking. “Please tell me you found a free ice cream place?”  
  
“You know I did.”  
  
“Doughnuts too?”  
  
“What do you take me for? I got all the good stuff, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He maneuvers his arm so it’s on Tommy’s shoulder, with Tommy’s arm still on his shoulder. The movement brings them a bit closer. “It’s early so I’m thinking we can get at least eight things. Eight’s a nice round number.”  
  
“You think I eat that much?”  
  
“Not always but yesterday you ate your lunch, Loki’s, and mine.”  
  
“I owe you lunch. I forgot about that. Well now’s a good a time as any to pay that back.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
“Hey, I know this place a few blocks from here that serves all day breakfast.”  
  
David checks his watch, “it’s still technically breakfast time.”  
  
“I ate a meatball sub for breakfast, we’re eating breakfast for lunch.”  
  
“I, unfortunately, don’t live in backwards meals land where we eat subs to start our day. All I ate for breakfast was cereal.”  
  
“You actually eat cereal for breakfast? Do you put cut up fruits in it?”  
  
“Eww, no. I don’t want fruits in my cereal.” He pauses to mentally backtrack something that stood out, “if you don’t eat cereal for breakfast when do you eat it?”  
  
“Whenever. There’s no meal limit. It’s cereal. It’s like saying you only eat bacon for breakfast.”  
  
“Right, I—” Damn, talking to Tommy makes him think. “I didn’t wanna nab more food on full stomach but didn’t want an empty one either. Point is, I’m down to eat. How good is this food?”  
  
“I will let you be the judge of that.”  
  
“That either means it’s really bad or really good. For your sake, it better be the latter.”  
  
“Hey, I’m good for it. If you don’t like it, money back guaranteed.”  
  
“Money back? You’re paying?”  
  
“I told you I owe you lunch, didn’t I? This is me paying you back.”  
  
“Why are you trying to find a loophole in my loophole?”  
  
When Tommy removes his arm and body from David’s, the bespectacled teen nearly whines at the loss. It suddenly got twenty degrees colder without Tommy next to him. The white-haired teen is giving him another new smile; this time a wide, mischievous one. “C’mon, I’m feeling like waffles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation time! According to my new language translator – all from Russian to English: с этого момента будет без английского в этой комнате. means: From this moment on, there will be no English spoken in this room. 
> 
> прошу прощения, госпожа. Романова means: Pardon, Ms. Romanova.
> 
> доктор. фурия просьбой Клинт Бартон? means: Dr. Fury is requesting a Clint Barton?


End file.
